


See No Evil - Hear No Evil

by Valkyrie69



Series: See No Evil - Hear No Evil [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence, Consensual, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6924730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkyrie69/pseuds/Valkyrie69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Events at Stull Cemetery turn out very differently from what we know and the brothers have to face a completely new life. Together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't have done this without the constant encouragement and endless support of my dear friend and fellow author 36and40 (check out that writer's work!!). It is my first venture into slash writing and her patient and insightful beta-ing made me and the story miles better. THANKS 36and40!
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome as I want to keep writing and hope to get better with time.

A warm, almost liquid floating sensation surrounds him. Like weightlessly drifting in the sun-kissed azure waters of the ocean… not that he’d know what that feels like.

They’d always wanted to make it there…to the ocean…swimming in the actual sea. Had they?! He can’t recall…

Ok, so maybe this is more like floating in the over-chlorinated, concrete walled, pissed-in pool of whatever dingy motel they’re currently staying in.

Dad off on some Hunt. Just them… alone…again, but together. It’s always best that way.

The sensation brings feelings of, if not exactly safety, then carelessness, isolation, comfort, relief.

Wrapped in total blackness, no sound assaulting his ears, no sights scaring him half way to insanity, no smells inducing stomach-roiling nausea - this is what peace is supposed to feel like, right?

But…wait…something is off…he has to…isn’t there something he should do? Something important… Someone….

His mind struggles for a moment, vague images skimming past, a few strange flashes, all too blurry to make out, too inconsequential to spark any reaction. 

No, he decides, or doesn’t, this is where he’s supposed to be now. Done. At peace.

He floats on.

**********************

“Come back to me!” he shouts, grabbing the front of his brother’s jacket and pulling him upright. “It’s over, man! We’ve done it! I’ve got you!”

He recoils at the dead expression, or complete lack thereof, in his brother’s open eyes, frantically feels for a pulse, finds it fast and strong under his probing fingers, then pulls him in tight, cradling his body close.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Don’t do this to me….not now!” His breath comes in painful gasps. “ _Pleeeease!_ I need you.”

But nothing…

**************************

So soft. Warm. Yeah, alright. Must have fallen asleep in the deck chair. Damn nice, soft towel. Odd…but nice!

Oh, something is moving….should check it out, I guess. Maybe later. Too comfy here.

No, wait…someone is moving _him_. Trying to get his attention? No, not urgent enough, just moving.

Slow stretch and pull, feels nice. Careful rotation, gentle pressure. Yeah, ok, need to move. Maybe later.

More insistent now, prodding, pulling, rolling….too much…. _being_ moved….nooo…! Body flying through the air….sound of crashing splintering glass….slung around….no control….limbs smashed into a hard surface…flare of pain – almost visible…..God, not this…not _him_ …..got to…..explosion of agony… flailing….harsh crack of bone into metal…..trying to reach…..him….struggle free…can’t. Red mist and crushed heart and never ending pain and loss….too much….

He pulls the velvety blackness back over him. Wraps himself up tight.

Safe here. No one to go back to. Will wait here….for…

He floats on.

***************************

“Come back to me” he whispers close to his brother’s ear, adjusting the pillow under his head. “You’re ok. We’re safe here. It’s all done. Just….please….”

His heart clenches at the unchanged vacant expression in his brother’s normally intense, expressive eyes and he leans his forehead against the other man’s, mostly to escape the empty stare there. His hands are trembling like his voice.

“Where’d you go, man? Can you hear me? I need you.”

 But nothing…

***************************

Water lapping. That feels nice. Long sweeping motions against his sides, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his arms, made gooseflesh rise on his skin.

Back in the pool then, right….. Wind must have picked up and waves are licking up his body…chilly 

A shudder races up his spine, the motion around him stops. Strange. Then continues. Something’s off.

No, not the pool…can’t be the pool – the _lake. The_ lake _._ Yes, that’s it.

Should probably check the weather, though. Don’t want us to be fried extra-crispy by some freak lighting strike and drown. Dad would be pissed. And better check if there is anybody else around who needs help.

Wait…. _Dad?_ No, that’s not right. Lightning.….body…? Something needs to be done…. some…body … BOBBY!

Sudden sharp images pour over him in an avalanche of sensation: Freaky weather, the sharp smell of wet earth and ozone; a cemetery sign “Stull”; the rumble of the Impala’s engine; CAS…vaporized; BOBBY…dead on the ground; then rings flying, a vortex of dirt opening in the ground…. and his brother… he’s…saying something?....he‘s…trying to connect….couldn’t…..he…..too late, NO!

No more, too much, not going back there, too much pain, he was d.o.n.e.

It is over. No one left.

Blackness envelops him again, total and absolute. Nothing else. This is good. Peaceful. He’ll wait here…for…

He floats on.

***************************

 " _Come back to me!”_ he thinks desperately, too tired to speak now, afraid his brother can’t hear him anyway.

He tries to concentrate back on his self-appointed task; his hands continue their motion with the washcloth along his brother’s strong limbs, reverent, careful, trying to convey his care and concern with every touch.

He can’t stand to look at his empty expression any longer, avoids eye contact, refuses to contemplate the possibilities, clings to the fact that he is physically present and strong.

_“C’mon, dude! Can’t do this alone! Please! I need you.”_

But nothing…

 ***************************

The sight greeting her, when she steps into their room at Kansas City General, is enough to stop her dead in her tracks and she questions her resolve for a moment. 

The one sits with his head bowed as if in prayer, forearms resting on his knees and a vacant expression on his gaunt, haunted, but still handsome face. If it weren’t for the four days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks, he would look like a lost child, hopeless and forgotten by all of his loved ones. Abandoned by the world.

The other lies in the hospital bed with an air of utter peace surrounding him. His beautiful features and strong physique marred only by an array of slowly healing cuts and colorful bruises on his face and a splint on one wrist. Eyes closed, breathing slow and regular, healthy color in his cheeks; he could have been simply asleep and yet… he seemed empty….somehow…vacant…not present. 

Her heart squeezes tight at the sight of them both and she approaches with care and renewed resolve. She has to help, wants to help. They have done so much for her personally, for the world at large and most people will never even know about it. But she knows and they deserve a break, deserve rest, deserve care and love. This is her chance to pay her dues to them.

 “Hey”, her voice is as gentle as a caress, full of empathy and understanding. “I’m here!”

His gaze drifts up from the floor, sightless at first, dull and bottomless in his grief and exhaustion. Thankfully, her presence sparks a little life back into him and she sees a slow flicker of hope ignite in the depth of his eyes.

“Thanks for coming,” he croaks, voice rough from apparent disuse. He clears his throat and looks like he wants to add something, but falls silent instead and simply looks at her, searching, unsure of where to start.

She breaks the beginning of an awkward silence by focusing on the practical as is her way. “What’d the doctors say?”

His eyes focus more firmly on her, challenged by her question, and she recognizes the reluctant gratefulness there – at having something to concentrate on, maybe, or a supportive ear. She realizes instantly that she doesn’t know him well enough yet to read him clearly, but she is determined to change that, to take on the challenge that is the Winchesters – plural – and make a difference.

“Nothing new, really.” He seems to be drawing himself up a bit, rolling and then squaring his shoulders, voice growing stronger. “He is healthy, just some superficial injuries, all his vitals and reflexes are perfect.” He smiles quietly to himself for a quick moment. “Better than mine, actually, the bastard. 

He shoots her a quick apologetic glance and looks confused a second later. “The docs tell me he is in good shape, healing well, accepts nourishment, sleeps well. All the scans are clean. There is nothing wrong with him that they can find…..” His eyes narrow at that and his brow furrows. “…aside from the small detail that he won’t fucking react to anything…any…. _one_ ….and is seemingly blind, mute and deaf. 

At the last words his face crumples, he swallows hard and his eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. He turns his face away from her quickly and angrily wipes a hand down his face. Even though he hadn’t included it in his spoken words, she heard the “not even to me” clearly in his tone.

“Sorry, I….uh….it’s been a long few days.” he says in a low voice, sounding endlessly tired and burdened by the fate of the world, which they – let’s face it – had on their combined shoulders until four days ago.

“Psych diagnosis is some type of extreme PTSD. Doc says his brain seems to have chosen not to process any stimulation at the moment. He functions perfectly, but doesn’t express anything.”

His hands start to smooth the blanket on the edge of his brother’s bed nervously, thoughtlessly, over and over again.

“They say he needs to go back to his normal…routine…his old life….do all the things he is used to….and he’ll come out of it eventually…on his own,” he scoffs bitterly and keeps worrying at the blankets. “Yeah, fat chance at that….his old life…” and then almost inaudibly “As if I'd ever fucking let him….”

Her heart breaks at his show of complete exhaustion and overwhelming, scattered emotions. The attending nurse she had run into outside the room had told her, that he’d hardly slept since they’d come in together, that he’d eaten almost nothing and had kept constant vigil at his brother’s bedside and taken over his care as much as they allowed him to. Between that and the ordeal that brought them to the hospital in the first place, she was surprised to see him upright and functioning halfway decently at all. 

Lisa only had a very general idea what had happened four days ago from the few things he had told her on the phone, when she called worried about the prolonged silence after Dean had shown up on her door step and disappeared again, leaving nothing but ominous predictions in his wake.

Epic fight, highest odds, everyone else gone and his brother collapsed, was the basic story he’d given her – the rest just had to wait until he was ready to talk about it in more detail.

In any case, his dead tone, his insistence that they’d been fine, that he’d figure something out, that he’d find a place for them had all screamed complete hopelessness to her and she’d flung herself into her car without a second thought, called her Mom in to babysit Ben and made the eight hour drive from Cicero to Kansas City in just under six.

She takes a step closer now and takes both of his hands firmly in hers, quieting their frantic motions. 

When he looks up into her warm, concerned dark brown eyes, he immediately feels fresh tears prick the back of his own.

_Goddammit, what is wrong with him?? When had he become such a girl??? Oh, yeah, when Hell opened up and his brother had collapsed and checked out! That’s when._

He blinks away the tears rapidly and is relieved to see that she keeps her sure, strong gaze on him with dry eyes.

She shakes his hands lightly and asks quietly.

“When can we take him home?”

He narrows his eyes and scowls at her uncomprehendingly. “H…Home?”

“Yeah, home….to my house. You’re both moving in, of course, at least until he comes out of this.” She gives him a warm and sure smile. “Then we can see about the future.”

He continues staring at her, words a jumble in his head, not making sense. _Home? They had no home. Nowhere, no one left. All gone._

Then something clicks and he starts to shake his head. “No, Lisa, NO! We can’t…..I….I _can’t_! It’s too much! You have no idea…Hell, _I_ have no idea, what he needs, how this is gonna go. It could be months…or...I don’t... And I can’t….we….you know this… _job_ …..doesn’t exactly pay….and…” he babbles, still shaking his head. 

_God, he is making a mess of this. He has to do better, explain better. He can’t drag her and Ben into this, into their lives. His brain is so muddled, he wishes he could concentrate._

“Hon, STOP!” Lisa steps into his space and takes his face in between her hands. “You hear me? Stop, please! I need to do this. I…want…to do…this.” She puts deliberate emphasis on each word. “You need help right now. You can’t do this alone. And that’s ok. You shouldn’t have to. I’m here and we’ll figure this out. Together.” 

She keeps her tone soft, but firm, making sure to speak clearly and plainly as she knows he is pretty much past the ability to comprehend anything more complicated at the moment.

He looks up at her again, eyes huge and open to his soul, and she can see it all so clearly then – he is holding on by a thread, a fingertip, the skin on his teeth; teetering dangerously on the edge of the endless abyss that is life without his brother; fully aware that the rim of the cliff is about to crumble and release him into free fall; almost welcoming the fact that some end is in sight.

And then he covers her hands with his, grabbing onto the lifeline she has thrown him – them – and holding on for all he’s worth, suddenly desperate to escape the seemingly inevitable. The small flicker of hope, she’d seen before, doing its best to catch hold and grow into a stronger flame, tenuous, but _real_.

“ _Thank you!”_ he whispers, pouring so much emotion and feeling into these two simple words, it takes her breath away for a moment.

She nods and smiles, holding back her own tears now, but she has never in her life been more sure that she is doing the right thing than she is at this moment.

“You’re most welcome, Sam."


	2. Intervention

Sam has been in furious research mode ever since they moved into Lisa’s house. He is spending every waking moment he isn’t taking care of Dean on the computer or the phone, digging deeper and deeper into more and more obscure ways to pull Dean out of whatever corner of his mind he is hiding in. In the meantime he isn’t taking care of himself and barely lets Lisa participate in assisting with his brother’s needs. 

Dean is easy enough to care for – he wakes up at 7 am sharp, eyes pop open, eerily glazed and dead; he lets himself be showered or washed; he eats when prompted; moves when lead somewhere and falls asleep around 10 pm. Sam goes about the task of guiding Dean through each day with almost military discipline and precision, sharp attention to detail and practiced routine,but all of it happens in almost complete silence. 

Both Lisa and San won’t acknowledge how much it creeps them out. It seems to both like they are taking care of a mindless automaton, an empty shell. Sam in particular would give his right arm by now for some of Dean’s usual snark and spunk. He can’t stand to think that this may be it. _For the rest of…..NO._

 

Lisa’s son Ben on the other hand, funny enough, has made his simple peace with the situation. His initial apprehension of interacting with this new Dean melted away quickly into a determination to remind him of all the things that he loved before. Remembering from their previous brief encounters that they shared a love for old-school rock, cars, and action movies, Ben supplies Dean with never ending entertainment. He plays music or movies for him when Dean spends his days sitting on the couch or keeps up a continuous commentary about cars and the Impala in particular, when Dean sits on the front porch. He is not deterred in the slightest by Dean’s utter lack of reaction or response and insists to Sam and Lisa that it’ll help bring him back. 

So, after Sam’s initial unease over having Dean bombarded with this constant stream of stimulation, he simply gives up and lets Ben do his thing, almost comforted by the familiar soundtrack of their lives and the background noise of Dean’s favorite movies washing over them both during most waking hours.

All the while he is pushing himself ever harder to find something – _anything_ – to help his brother find a way back to himself and crack the cocoon that he has retreated into. 

Lisa quickly understands that she is currently of more use to and more deeply needed by Sam than Dean. Although it frustrates her a little that Sam won’t let her help more, she also understands that he has an intense need to keep close to and connected with his brother, and this doesn’t allow much room for her at the moment. So she settles into her own routine of making sure that Sam eats and sleeps and showers, doing for Sam what Sam is doing for Dean, although her success is similarly limited.

It’s almost like Sam is on some invisible deadline, driven and unrelenting in his efforts and completely ignorant of his own limits.

So, after five days at her house, during which Sam worked feverishly in every aspect connected to his brother’s recovery, but hadn’t spoken much or made any effort outside of caring for Dean, Lisa decides it’s time for an intervention.

As she hears Sam upstairs, getting Dean ready for bed, she makes quick preparations for them downstairs in the living room.

Before long his footsteps are audible on the stairs, slow and trudging. He steps into the living room, scrubbing a hand down his face with the air of someone who can barely stay on his feet.

He starts moving like a sleepwalker towards the dining table, where he’s set up his “command center” for “operation rescue Dean” and then stops mid-step. He turns a slow 360 and looks at all other surfaces in the room, before his eyes come to rest on Lisa, who is sitting on the couch looking at him steady and calm.

“Where's my laptop?” he asks slowly, brow furrowed and eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Lisa just pats the sofa besides her and says “Sit down, Sam, we gotta talk.”

“Noooo, Lisa, I don’t have time for this…I need to….I still have work to do…..there was this site I was about to…..where’s my laptop?” his voice is rising, but she can clearly hear that it is panic, not anger, behind his agitation. He looks around the entire room again, head snapping left and right, like a cornered animal looking for an escape route.

“Sam, please, come here and sit down.” She keeps her voice soft and her tone warm as if speaking to a frightened child.

“Lisa, I really _can’t…_ you don’t understand, I have to keep going. I can’t stop now. There _has to_ be something out there I can find to help Dean!” His voice is hoarse and trembling, higher than usual and so distressed it threatens to break her heart.

Still, she keeps her voice low and firm, when she pats the sofa again and says. “Of course, there is, and you _will_ find it, but not tonight, ok? It’ll be there tomorrow or the day after, Sam. When you’ve had some rest and can think of where to look next. _Please_.”

“I can’t _rest!_ ” he exclaims and looks at her like she lost her marbles and is talking gibberish. “Not when we don’t even know, where he _is_! What he’s feeling. He could be in pain or think he’s being tortured or back in…” he cuts himself off, biting his lip, unsure of how much Lisa actually knows. “I mean, there is no way, I’m leaving him like this.”

Lisa gets up from the couch now, walks towards Sam and takes his hands in hers.

“And no one is saying you should, Sam!” she tugs on his hands and pulls the reluctant man after her to the couch, where she sits down again and doesn’t let go. “But you are not getting your laptop back tonight, so you might as well sit where it’s more comfortable and have a beer with me, alright?”

He stares down at her with a glazed expression on his face and her chest tightens at the sight of the dark purple circles under his eyes, his hollow cheeks and slumped shoulders. He looks decades older than his actual age.

“Please, Sam! _One night? “_ Lisa tugs again at Sam’s hands, but he is just standing there staring into nothing over her right shoulder, swaying the slightest bit. She can’t tell, if he is even listening, but she tries to keep him engaged. “There isn’t any immediate danger to Dean, you know that. And you _can’t_ keep going like this. You need to take care of yourself first or you are no good to him at all. I’ve seen you nod off on the computer several times today alone. You can’t even think straight.” His weary eyes travel slowly to her face, but he still looks like he isn’t really paying attention. She tries a joke to shake Sam out of his stupor. “If _you_ crash on me, they’ll be no showers for either one of you, ‘cause I can’t lift your heavy asses into the tub.” 

There is a beat of total silence.

“He _promised_ me…..he would…”, Sam whispers unexpectedly, sinking down onto the couch with a shuddering sigh and then closes his eyes “He was going to….with you…..’m not even supposed to _be_ here!”

“Sorry, Hon, what?” Lisa cuts in gently and puts a hand on Sam’s knee to keep his attention. 

When he looks up at her with huge eyes, she is momentarily startled by the kaleidoscope of colors meeting her gaze.

‘ _He has the most amazing eyes’_ , she thinks disjointedly but pulls back to the present as she can also clearly see the bottomless grief reflected in Sam’s face. She squeezes her hand on his knee and asks again.

“What was that, Sam? Where were you supposed to be?”

"In Hell.” he chuckles mirthlessly, voice toneless, eyes far away.

“I don’t understand. What…do you mean…in hell?” she stutters, taken aback by the sudden shift in his mood.

He finally focuses on her and can clearly read the deep care and concern in every ounce of her being; in her posture, her face. He shakes his head minutely and a small sad smile plays around his lips.

" _Fuck, what am I doing? She is so amazing- taking us in like this, so willing to help._ _Dealing with our shitstorm of a life._ _She needs the truth, if she’s going to be part of this…. Then it’s her choice if she wants to keep doing it or cut the cord, before it’s too late,”_ Sam thinks and then falters just a moment to consider, what Dean would do in his place. _Would he want this mess brought to Lisa’s doorstep? Would he have come here at all after Stull, if Sam had ended up in the cage, like he was supposed to?_

 _'YES!’_ Sam decides for himself. ‘ _Dean would have ended up here. He promised. And he already knew how strong Lisa was and he would’ve told her, eventually, maybe not all of it, but most of the truth.’_

A new-found resolve sinks into him, that he can still make this work for Dean and Lisa. Get them the happy ending they both deserve.

Sam relaxes visibly and finds a more comfortable position on the couch, slouching into one corner. Lisa is thrilled to see him finally relent and she quickly thrusts a beer at him before pulling up her knees and cuddling into the opposite corner of the large sofa.

“Sorry, Lisa….I’m behaving like a giant dick here”, he says with an adorably helpless grimace and a rueful smile. “Okay, I guess, I owe you some back story, huh?”, he takes a long pull from his beer. “One night off isn’t gonna kill anyone. You’re right. ‘Sides, I am pretty much stuck with my research at the moment.”

“I can help.” Lisa asserts in a small but confident voice. “If you let me?”

Sam looks at her quietly for a moment, thinking, and then he nods. “Yeah, I could really use some help!”

“Where’d you normally go, if you’re stuck?” she asks and then immediately wants to kick herself in the ass. ‘ _STUPID question….Dean, of course!’_

“Bobby”, comes the shaky response and Lisa looks up in surprise and sees Sam’s face clouding over and his eyes close for a moment, swallowing hard, before he rakes a hand through his thick hair and sighs deeply again. “I would call Bobby, but that’s out now that he’s…..gone.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam. Can you tell me what happened?” Lisa’s voice flows over Sam like long awaited rain in the desert, unlocking something inside him.

“Right….back story….so, here it goes….” Sam begins and tells Lisa everything from the Angels and Cas’ search for God; to the seals and Lilith; to the rise of Lucifer and his and Dean’s roles as vessels; ending with the rings of the Horsemen and the desperate race to avert the Apocalypse.

He is as truthful as he can be, without going into too much details and he only leaves out some of the most personal bits, like Dean’s stint in Hell as well as his own addiction to demon blood and the resulting tension and trust issues between him and his brother.

As he talks he feels a burden slowly lift off his shoulders and his mind clears a bit from its foggy state of shock and darkness of the past months and especially the last ten days.

_‘God, this is crazy! What a fucking life to have, if you can call it that. No one in their right mind would believe any of this….unless you knew better, had seen it…AND any normal person would run screaming or send you to the nut house!’_

Sam takes another deep pull from the beer and continues “The final showdown was in this cemetery outside Lawrence. What was it…nine days ago? Lucifer was driving my meat suit at that time and Michael showed up in Adam’s. I was fighting tooth and nail in there, tried every trick I could think of, but he kept me…busy, kept me….I don’t know…away from myself? It’s hard to explain. I only got glimpses of what was happening on the outside, kinda like looking into one of those old moving picture carousels…..flashes of images with breaks in between. I knew Dean showed up, I heard the Impala, but didn’t see him. I got a view of Adam going up in flames and disappearing. Then nothing again until Cas exploded into….a million pieces, like he was vaporized, you know. ”

He looks at Lisa and wonders if he should gloss over some of these more gruesome facts, but something deep inside of him is pushing him to be honest and not shield her. ‘ _If there is any chance that they can figure out how to get Dean back, she needs to understand, what sent him into his current state to begin with.’_

While telling his tale, he watches a medley of expressions play over Lisa’s face from shock to awe. From pain to relief and from joy to deep sadness. Although neither fear nor apprehension is part of the mix.

Sam has to admit to himself that he is pretty damned impressed by this woman. He can see clearly what drew Dean to her.

Lisa, in the meantime, prays silently for Sam to go on, to give her the full story and not shut down in order to spare her. She needs to know it all to be able to make any type of informed decision here.

He clears his throat and sips at his beer again. “Then Bobby…. He just…crumpled to the ground… Later…after…I could see that his neck was broken. I saw Dean flying into the windshield of the Impala and then again on the ground by her side and again looking up at me with his face all bloody and swollen and I….Lucifer…..but my hand…. _Fuck,_ Lis, he got beat up really bad!”

He exhales sharply through his nose and shuts his eyes tight for a moment, his throat working convulsively against the nausea rising in his throat at the memory of his fist pounding into Dean’s face and body while he was powerless to make it stop.

Lisa quickly scoots closer to Sam, sits cross-legged facing him and grabs his wrist and forearm with both of her hands, feeling his racing pulse under her fingertips.

“It wasn’t _you_ , Sam!” she says in a fervent tone, that breaks through his distress and steels his resolve.

There is a pause and she holds her breath, preparing to be rebuffed. But he nods, quick and tight and slowly opens his eyes.

“I know…. I know! I’m good!” he draws in a hitching breath and continues without looking directly at her. “It’s just…hard…you know. I mean, of course, we’ve had fights, drag-out-all-in-brawls, no question, come away bruised and bloody, too. But _this_? Lucifer was gonna _kill_ Dean, I could feel it. He was literally gonna beat him to death with _my_ hands…..and I….I… couldn’t _do anything about it!”_ Sam’s voice breaks and a tear rolls down his cheek.

Lisa sits very still, doesn’t want to interrupt the flow of the story that Sam obviously has to get off his chest. She is horrified at the idea of what they both went through, are still going through in a way. She simply tightens her grip on his arm, feels the lean muscles taught under her hand and rubs little circles over the pulse point at his wrist.

“And then….he….he…looks up at me and I can see him clearly all of a sudden, no breaks, no fuzzy images – just his battered, bleeding face and….and he tells _me_ that it’s OK, and that he’s there and that he’s not gonna leave _me_!”

Sam winces, breath catching in his throat, can’t continue for a moment, it’s too much, too vivid. He’s back there, sees it all again, feels the helplessness and impotent rage at falling short yet again, not being able to overpower the devil, sees his brother _still_ backing him up, _still_ giving, _still_ believing, when he should be running. Sam struggles against a desperate sob trying to rip free from his chest, tries to bite it back, pinches the bridge of his nose to beat back the tears that want to break loose.

 _‘NO, he is not gonna break down now_. _It’s stupid and pointless. It’s OVER.'_

With a Herculean effort, he brings himself back under control and takes a few deep breaths against the tight feeling in his chest and blinks rapidly against the prick of tears that sting his eyes. He realizes with a small start that Lisa has started to card her fingers through his hair softly, soothingly, and that it actually feels amazing 

He hadn’t been touched with any such care or concern in….ages… Images of his Mom, his Dad and Jess and Dean – _wait, what?_ – flash through is mind and give him an instant moment of relief and comfort. His base instincts respond so strongly to this simple touch that it scares him for a second.

 _‘She’s just trying to console you, idiot!’_ he chides himself, fully aware that he is a complete emotional wreck at the moment and in no state to evaluate the situation further, so he quickly chooses to ignore his apprehension and simply take what is given, gratefully.

He pushes into her hand, wordlessly encouraging her to continue and she is pleased at not having been rejected, when all she wants to do is ease his pain and stress.

“Yeah, so the stubborn bastard is giving _me_ support, when _he_ is being beaten to a bloody pulp by what looks like his brother.” He continues with a sarcastic snort. “And then something weird happens, I don’t know why or how, but Lucifer got…distracted maybe? I have no clue, all I know is that all of a sudden I can clearly see the little toy soldier in the ashtray of the Impala’s door, that I crammed in there when I was five, maybe? Then this avalanche of images floods through me; completely crashes over me. Our whole life together passes in front of my eyes - literally. From when we were kids to now, Dean and I, always us…together. Picture after picture.”

He stares sightlessly into the middle distance for a moment, still pushing back into Lisa’s touches like an appreciative cat, before he continues. “Something in that gave me the edge, I guess, to gain control over my body.” He shrugs a shoulder and tries to think of how to best explain the sensation. “It was _fucking hard_ , mentally _and_ physically, like…. pushing-a-giant-boulder-uphill-while-translating-some-ancient-text kind of hard, but it gave me enough time to take out the rings, get the portal open and get the devil in the cage.”

Lisa can feel Sam give a bone deep shudder under her touch. She continues the slow, steady passes of her fingers through his soft, thick hair.

He drains the last of his beer and clears his throat again, but his voice still comes out croaky and rough.

“I was ready to go, ready to jump in, end it, ya know. Then Michael rushes me, tries to stop me. But I’m already falling backwards so I grab on and pull him with me. He falls past me and is gone. I look up and Dean is staring at me so…lost….right before he collapses to the ground.” Another tremor races through him.

“Next thing I know something is being wrenched from me, painfully, like splitting me in two. No…really it felt like someone stuck their whole arm down my throat and pulled out my guts _and_ lungs through my mouth and I crashed onto the _ground_. No hole, no Hell, no cage. Just Stull Cemetery. Dean and Bobby on the ground and everyone else gone.” He huffs shakily in renewed disbelieve at that outcome. “And the rest, you know.”

“ _Holy Shit,_ Sam.” Lisa breathes after a moment of complete silence as she tries to sort out the emotions and thoughts racing through her.

She studies him again, but with what feels like a new set of eyes and a completely different understanding. She can suddenly see _behind_ the tired, run-down facade and really grasp the incredible strength, unfaltering courage, fierce loyalty, stubborn tenacity and deep rooted devotion Sam and Dean must possess to have pulled this off. Yet they are just regular humans, no superhero abilities or nifty gadgets at their disposal, just them. Ordinary men caught by fate or design or coincidence or some humongous stinking pile of unfair luck in the middle of this epic fight to hold back evil from this world and keep it spinning on its axis, so everyone else can go on living their normal Apple Pie lives. All the while these two are operating in the shadows, rarely receiving thanks and almost never receiving any real comfort.

_JESUS….how fucked up is that?_

Sam slouches on the sofa next to her, long legs stretched out in front of him, overlong hair falling into his face as he pics at the label of his beer bottle, deep in thought, when a huge yawn catches hold and splits his face.

She lets her hand slide out of his hair and he chases the contact for a moment, but doesn’t say anything. Lisa takes his face gently in both of her hands, pushing his hair back, settling her palms against his cheeks and making him look her straight in the eyes.

“ _THANK YOU, Sam.”_ she says simply and firmly and tightens her hold on him just a fraction before letting him go 

He looks at her quizzically and cocks his head to the side.

“For what?” he asks her slightly amused.

“For _everything_ you and Dean do. For everyone you ever saved or fought for or prevented some unknown dreadful thing from happening to. Well, and then there is the whole _saving the world_ thing!” her smile is brilliant for a moment, lights up her whole face and warms Sam’s heart. “So, thanks for that, too.”

“Uuuhm, your welcome?” he ventures and smiles back, but it’s a small and tired one.

She pats his knee and stands up.

“Another beer?” she asks. He nods gratefully while he still thinks about her words.

_Yeah, and that’s really the point, isn’t it? They’ve DONE it! They’ve fucking caged the devil and are both topside and alive. THAT should be his focus now._

_Not the past, not the many heartbreaking losses and not the crushing defeats. All the bloody bits and collateral damage that make up a war of such epic proportions can break a man, leave him crippled, body and soul._

_But he is not a victim, THEY are not victims, they were fucking victorious._

_And he’ll figure this out, too, get Dean back and move forward somehow._

_Somehow…_

Lisa comes back from the kitchen with two fresh bottles standing, undecided, for a moment, not sure where to sit now that the need for closeness has passed. Sam looks at her expectantly and then pats the sofa right beside him.

“C’mere, it’s nice to have company.”

She smiles and resumes her position, handing him the other beer. They clink and drink in silence for a moment, before she breaks it.

“Sam, can I ask you something?” her voice is soft and she pauses, worried to overstep her bounds, to dredge up more pain, but senses that it’s probably the best opportunity to get it all out, deal with it and move on. Lisa clears her throat and starts again. “Where’s Bobby now?”

At that Sam’s throat tightens again and his stomach gives an uncomfortable flip of grief and guilt. He isn’t really ready to go too deep into that particular dark hole or examine his feelings about losing the one man that was always more of a father figure to him than his own Dad. He needs Dean to work through that with him, figure out what to do next, how to deal with Bobby’s belongings and what life would be like without knowing that Bobby was always in the wings to back them up.

Sam’s voice is a little rough with suppressed emotions when he speaks.

“I called Rufus, when it was over. He’s probably the closest thing Bobby had to a good friend. He wasn’t too far away and volunteered to take Bobby…..home….give him his Hunter’s funeral.”

Lisa isn’t sure what that entails, but she isn’t about to ask details, when it is so clearly painful for Sam to talk about it.

“Sorry, you couldn’t be there.” She says gently. “I know he meant a lot to both of you.”

Sam lets out a long breath through his nose, sounding like a deflating balloon, and gives her a watery smile. “Yeah, he did. He’s family, ya know? But Bobby’d understand that I couldn’t leave Dean. We’ll just have to pay our respects….later, I guess. 

Lisa has the feeling that this is all Sam was going to say about this subject, so she changes it.

“And Cas? Where’d he go? Do Angels….die?”

“I don’t know, Lis. I mean, I don’t think he’s dead. I’d guess he’s back in Heaven. Not that that’s gonna be a cake walk for him. He wasn’t exactly on their Top Ten Favorite list in the end there. But it was Lucifer, who destroyed his vessel and I have no clue, if that does something more to the Angel inside?” Sam rubs his chin thoughtfully. “We’d have to do some research on that.” He takes a sip of his beer and feels slightly self-conscious as he continues. “I prayed….a lot…the first few days…. asked him for help….to help Dean. But…nothing. No sign or radio interference or anything. So, for now, I guess, we have to assume he’s out of the running.”

Lisa looks at him, not at all surprised that Sam would pray. In her mind, someone who had to deal with the level of crazy and evil that these two do on a regular basis would need something to believe in or lean on, otherwise they would have given up a long time ago. Of course, she also knows from her conversations with Dean in the past, that he pretty much held the opposite view for most of his life. He’d told her once that he couldn’t believe that there was such thing as God, if he’d tolerate all the evil in the world running rampant. So maybe Sam had to be the one, believing for the both of them.

“Yeah, I guess, we do.” She nods quietly. “In any case, I am not sure Cas would be able to do much good for Dean.”

“What do you mean? I’ve seen Cas heal much worse conditions than a simple case of PTSD!” it comes out harsher than he means it to, but the perceived negativity from Lisa raises his hackles immediately and he is not ready to give up hope that Cas might still have the cure-all at hand, if he can just find him.

“Sam, PTSD is not simple,” Lisa interjects in a firm tone as her dark brown eyes bore into his.

“Why do you think there are so many soldiers affected by it? Why are they carrying that around for so long after the conflict? There aren’t any surefire ways to cure it either. It’s mostly up to the affected person to dig back out. To conquer what’s in their head.”

She catches a glimpse of Sam’s defiant expression and can practically hear his thoughts.

“I _know_ Dean is strong and I _know_ he’s been through more shit any man should ever experience in a lifetime and he came out fine on the other side.” _Well, fine is a stretch, but mostly…_ “But _think_ about what pushed Dean over the edge. You just told me that after one of the toughest years you two ever had, the last things he saw were his brother possessed by Lucifer, Bobby and Cas killed and then you jumping into Hell. He lost _everything_ in the matter of minutes.”

Lisa sees the stricken look spread over Sam’s face at her last words and softens her tone a bit.

“Look, Sam, all I’m saying is that I think Dean has retreated so far into himself to protect himself from the loss and the loneliness that he expected was waiting for him now. I’m not sure that would have been something Cas would have been able to counteract.”

Sam thinks about all the things he _has_ seen Cas do, knows that they could have wiped Dean’s mind and given him a fresh start with Lisa. He is also absolutely sure that this was not what Dean would have wanted, in fact, that Dean would have probably killed him with his bare hands, if he’d ever found out about it.

Lisa can see that Sam is deep in thought, but she needs him to pay attention to the next part. She reaches out and grips one of his hands in both of hers. He stares down at it, thankful for the contact and squeezes back.

“Sam, the human mind is probably one of the hardest parts of a person to heal. Cas is gone. We just have to find another way, ok?” She smiles at him, sure and determined. “And I think I am starting one.”

Sam looks up at her sharply and his eyes widen in hope and interest.

“Yeah? What’d ya think can help?” His heart speeds up as he wracks his brain over what Lisa may know that he hasn’t thought about already. Maybe it has to do with her professional knowledge of physical therapy for trauma patients? Or something she read or…..

“ _YOU._ ”

“ _Me?”_ Sam asks, stumped, as his thoughts stutter to a halt.

_Wasn’t he doing everything he could think of already? Covering every aspect of Dean’s care. Making sure he was safe and warm and fed and washed and…._

“Yes, _YOU!”_ she repeats and has to smile at his clueless and slightly frustrated expression.

“Think about, what you’ve been doing since you got here? Hell, even at the Hospital.” she challenges.

“Uuuhmm, I am doing everything the doctors showed me to do. Aren’t I? Are you seeing anything I’m missing?”

“It’s not about _what_ you are doing, but _how_ you are doing it.” Lisa says patiently 

“I don’t get it, Lisa. I thought I was doing everything right!” his voice is tight with anxiety. “You would have told me, if I wasn’t, wouldn’t you?”

“Hey, Sam, hey, I’m sorry.” she quickly says and berates herself for putting him through this, but she feels strongly that he needs to be on the same page with her, if this is going to work. “I don’t mean to speak in riddles here, but I want to see if you come to the same conclusion I did, ok? See, if I’m on the right path.”

“Oookaaay.” he says slowly and nods at her. “Go on.”

“Alright - remember what the doctors said? About getting Dean back to his old life, regular routine, normal surroundings?”

He scoffs angrily. “Yeah, well, we also established that _that_ can’t happen. Come on, Lisa, be real!”

_What the hell was she getting at?! Was he supposed to invite a few monsters to play, to shock Dean back to reality?_

“Hold on, I wasn’t finished,” she interrupts him quickly, still patiently trying to get through his stubborn head. “Of course, he doesn't have that option…that’s not what I’m talking about. But the _job_ wasn’t all of Dean’s old life, Sam, think about it! What is the _one_ true constant in his life? ….. _YOU!_ ”

“I get that, Lis, why do you think I am trying to do it all? Why do you think, I’m here? That’s what we _do_ for each other. Take care of each other.” Sam’s irritation is rising now, but he tries hard to control his temper.

“But you are doing it all in _silence_ and only get close to him if you need to!” Lisa raises her voice, getting frustrated herself that she can’t make him understand, what it so clear to her. _Maybe she was on the wrong track here?_ Still she forges on.

“Look, Sam, from all I know about you, things Dean told me, the two of you have spent all of your lives in each other’s space – almost 24/7. You share rooms, you share meals, you sit in the Impala for days in close quarters and through it all you _talk_ to each other almost constantly. _Now_ , the only people talking to Dean are me and Ben. No Sam, no Impala, no _normal and familiar_ surroundings.”

Sam looks at her skeptically.

“I don’t know, Lisa. That seems a little far-fetched or…. too simple. I don’t think he can hear anything anyway. The doctors said that he isn’t getting any stimulation.”

“Nooo, the doctors said his brain chooses not to _process_ any stimulation at the moment. Not that he doesn’t perceive any. BIG difference. There are plenty of studies on coma patients that prove that they are aware of certain aspects of their surroundings. Dean is completely functional, so why wouldn't he hear and feel anything?”

Sam doesn’t know what to say to that. _Could it really be that simple? Did he unintentionally starve Dean of needed contact or his familiar voice?! GOD, was he actually part of the problem that kept Dean locked in his own mind? Fuck!_

“OK, so what exactly do you suggest?!” he asks and his tone is somewhere between stand-offish and plea for help.

Lisa reminds herself again that these battle-hardened men are not in the habit of asking for help or even admitting that they may not be in full control of their circumstances at all times, so she tries to answer carefully without pushing her opinion too hard.

“Well, you would know better than me, but for starters, I think you need to talk to him a lot more, especially when you are in physical contact with him. Try to create situations from your regular life together. At the moment you stash Dean on the couch or outside, when you sit at the dining table doing research. Is that how you normally go about it? Wouldn’t you talk to him or show him what you find? Stuff like that. And I think it would be a great idea to take Dean on drives in the Impala, just the two of you, like always. If that noisy beast doesn’t get through to his brain, I don’t know what will.” Lisa gives Sam a little smile.

“Hhhmm,” he hums thoughtfully, starting to get excited at the prospect that this might possibly work or at least give him a legitimate new way to effect a change.

Lisa, however, reads his noise as apprehension and skepticism so she continues.

“Listen, Hon, I think, Dean has chosen some type of ‘hear-no-evil-see-no-evil’ state in his mind to ignore the uncomfortable reality, because the last sights, sounds, and feelings he experienced before the went were nothing but pain, loss, and misery. Most of all - the prospect of a life without you.” Her voice wobbles a little on that last bit and Sam looks up sharply to see a profound sadness in her warm brown eyes. He puts his other hand over both of hers and is about to ask her what’s wrong when she continues in a hoarse whisper.

“I wish….I was hoping…that maybe _I_ could help him to come out of this. That I could to pull him back, or at least….be a part of the reason. But I’ve been talking to him and trying to make a connection for days without any success. So…I think, Sam..it’s all _you._ ”

The truth of these words hit her harder than she expected now that she is voicing them out loud. She’d been so busy making sure that the three guys in the house were taken care of, that she hasn’t spent much time at all on her own feelings about this situation. After all, Dean had come to _her_ before the end and had told her that when he pictured himself happy, it was with _her._ Yet nothing she had done, since he came to live with her had made the slightest bit of difference, at least not noticeably, and that fact _hurt_ more than she was willing to admit to herself until now.

Sam’s heart lurches at her pain and he lifts a hand to her shoulder placing it carefully at the curve of her neck to comfort her, confident that he can give her some peace of mind in that department.

“But _that’s_ where you are all _wrong, Lisa.”_ he says in a gentle tone and notices distractedly, that her skin is incredibly soft under his palm. “See, we knew I would be gone, and I know Dean came here….before it got too bad…and warned you, right? He made plans to make sure you and Ben would be ok….after….whatever happened. But that was when he thought, _he’d_ be gone and _before_ I agreed to be Lucifer’s vessel.”

Lisa looks up at Sam wide eyed and expectant, leaning a little into the touch of his huge warm hand.

“When we made the plan that I would ride the devil into the cage, we assumed that this would stave off the Apocalypse and I would be gone. Dean _promised me_ that he would not spend his life looking for a way to get me out, but that he would come _here_ and give the whole family life thing a _real_ shot.”

She stares at him incredulously, tears rising hot and fast in her eyes.   “And he agreed to that?”, she asks in a thin whisper, “When I couldn’t even make him stay for a damn beer?”

“Yeah, Lis, he did. I know he really cares for you and Ben. And he probably would have loved to try this a lot sooner, but….ya know….we were kinda busy… 

She laughs shakily, thrilled on the inside, at the information Sam is giving her, but then another sobering thought hits her.

“Okay, well, thanks for telling me all that. I would never have guessed.” She smiles at him and wipes her eyes dry on her sleeve. “But Sam, now that you didn’t….leave….what happens next?”

The thought had struck Sam, too, but he had also found a new clarity about what is important right this moment. He squeezes her shoulder gently and lets her long silky black hair slide through his fingers as he retrieves his hand.

“I think, we’ll take it one step at a time and get him back first, ok? Then we’ll figure out the rest.” He smiles at her warmly and sits up straight, “But, I hope you don’t mind, if we’d start tomorrow? I am _beat.”_

He gets up from the sofa and then stretches his arms over his head and bends slightly backwards from the waist until Lisa hears a series of little cracks and pops and a deep groan from Sam. Lisa’s cheeks flush as she is suddenly greeted with a close-up view of his shirt riding up, revealing enticingly low slung jeans, jutting hip bones and tight lower abdominal muscles with a trail of fine dark hair disappearing southwards.

_Jesus Christ, she so didn't need to see that right now….having two gorgeous male specimens in the house and in close contact with her every day is tough enough. Not having had sex in quite a while is not exactly lessening the building need in her either. Add the fact that her houseguests are genuine super heroes in her view and incredibly kind people to boot makes the attraction even deeper and harder to ignore. Top it all off with the fact that she really does care deeply for Dean but now has gotten the chance to know Sam better, too, it’s almost too much. It adds a definite layer of murky confusion to the situation that she has to be very careful to avoid._

Sam is completely oblivious to her discomfort and he simply takes her by the shoulders and pulls her up, until he can wrap her into an all-enveloping bear hug.

“C’mere!” she can hear rumble deep in his chest as she is smushed tight against him.

_So much to avoiding the murky situation, God!_

Sam savors the feel of her small, firm body against his and the warm, spicy scent of her hair under his nose as he kisses the top of her head.

“Lisa, I don’t know what to say…other than ‘ _thank you’_ again. I don’t know where we would be without you. I _really_ appreciate all that you do, ok? Please know how much this means to me…” he breaks off, slightly embarrassed. When she slides her arms around his waist and squeezes him hard, he nods into her hair in the clear understanding that no words are needed, that it’s ok, that Lisa knows how he feels.

They simply stand there for a moment, holding onto each other for comfort and support and out of a shared love for Dean.

She finally pushes off from him and smiles up at his tired face.

“Buddy, it’s way past time for you to get a real night’s sleep, ok? Up you go!” she says giving him a little push towards the stairs.

He nods again and another huge yawn catches him unaware as he makes his way upstairs.


	3. Hope

Sam walks quietly into his shared bedroom with Dean and closes the door softly behind him.

The conversation with Lisa both eased his anxiety and put him in a good place for a new approach to this problem. He is determined to follow Lisa’s advice, to make their situation as normal as possible and not behave like a crazed hermit, shutting everyone out who is willing to help.

He walks over to the foot of Dean’s bed and looks down at his sleeping form. He is lying on his back, one hand on his chest, breathing deep and regular and the yellow glow from the street lamp outside their window filters through the curtains enough to paint Dean’s face a soft gold, making him look much younger and completely relaxed. Sam studies his brother’s features noting the smooth forehead, storng brows, dark lashes, aquiline nose, strong jawline and his full, curved lips. He always thought Dean was good looking, in a detached, brotherly kinda way. Always a little jealous about how one look from Dean’s smoldering emerald eyes under cocked brows and his trademark crooked smile would melt any girl’s or women’s heart in no time flat. But there rarely had been any opportunity to really look at Dean, without catching immediate flak for it, so the symmetry and beauty of his brother’s face surprises him a little now. Yes, Dean is in fact, beautiful, not just good looking.

_Oh God, when did he turn into a complete girl?! Dean would never let him hear the end of it, if he could hear his thoughts right now._

He blinks and shakes his head a little to break the trance. He is so bone-deep tired that he can barely stand up straight and he knows he ought to hit the sack and get a good night’s rest. Still he can’t make himself take the few steps over to his own bed by the window. He just feels an urgent need to re-connect with Dean on some deeper, more elemental level right now.

He thinks back to when they were both kids, to the endless nights in some dingy motel room or another, Dad off hunting, Sam scared that his Dad would not return, trying to be brave and hide his feelings from Dean. Of course, his brother knew him too well for that to ever work, but Dean never taunted, never chided, always tried to reassure him. Dean’s touch, Dean’s voice and Dean’s closeness were often the only thing that made it possible for Sam to sleep without nightmares. 

_So maybe, he can give some of that back to Dean now…._

Sam makes a snap decision and walks to the other side of Dean’s bed then, taking an extra blanket from the footboard on the way. He lies down next to Dean on his side facing away from his brother and pressing his back to Dean’s side, the way they used to lie together, when Sam and wouldn't admit that he’d much rather cuddle up under his brother’s arm with his head on his chest, because he figured he was too old to _behave like a baby_. Sam had been seven at the time this started, because he began to understand how much responsibility Dean already carried at that age and how much he had to live up to.

Lying there so close to Dean in a way they hadn’t for long long time has Sam feeling a little awkward and tense at first as he wonders if this was a colossally stupid idea and if he should get the fuck over to his own bed. But his brother’s regular deep breathing, the familiarity of his scent and the warmth of his solid body besides him, lulls him off to sleep quicker than he can make the conscious decision to stay where he is.

And he sleeps like a stone for the first time since Stull…no really, for the first time in years.

***********************

What’s that? New sensation – it’s nice – warm and comfortable. 

No, wait….not new….very very old….but familiar. Yes, a good feeling. Strong and true. 

SAMMY….?

Probably having a nightmare, just needs some comfort. Yeah, that’s it.

Done this a million times. Sammy thinks he doesn’t know when his little brother is scared….well shit…who wouldn’t be? _HE_ was…is... Can’t let him see, though. Make him safe, take care of Sammy, protect your brother…..yessir.

Something’s different, though….

Hold on….Sammy….Sam….not kids anymore…

Is this it? Had he gotten here after all? Back together?

Finally!

Quiet now…let him sleep….just enjoy…still time….can check it out….later.

***************************

Sam wakes up in the same exact position he fell asleep in, a rare thing for him. He takes a moment to sort out his muddled brain and then realizes with a start that it has to be long past seven the way the sun is shining brightly through the gap in the curtain.

_SHIT! He’s overslept….that never happened. NO…new day…new rules…no more internal quiet dialogue._

“SHIT!” he says out loud and sits up swinging his legs out of bed and rubbing at his face vigorously before turning around to Dean’s side. “Sorry, man! Totally overslept. You must be ready for…. 

He stops his rush of words when he sees Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, mirroring his own position. Dean hadn’t moved at all without prompting or being led since they got here, so the thought of him having gotten out of bed even to this extent both thrilled and terrified Sam.

_Holy Shit, was this good? Or bad? Maybe him sleeping in the same bed had scared Dean awake? Maybe he was trying to show him that this was not acceptable? Or was it a good thing that Dean had made an effort on his own at all. Maybe starting to come back to him?_

“Whatcha doing, Dean?” he asks, forcing himself to keep his voice normal and even, trying to mask his excitement and trepidation. “Did ya get tired of waiting for my lazy ass to wake up and decided to go to breakfast on your own?”

No response. 

“Okay, man, gimme a minute to get you ready and we can head downstairs.”

No reaction.

Sam walks to Dean’s side of the bed and takes his forearm, giving is a slight tug upwards. Dean rises like always, responsive to his prompting and Sam leads him to the bathroom for the normal morning routine, all the while keeping up his one-sided banter consisting of all the little jibes and comments they’d normally share on any normal day.

Sam feels slightly idiotic in the beginning, babbling at Dean without any discernable result, but he keeps at it doggedly, hoping Lisa is right and he’ll be able to break through Dean’s self-imposed isolation at some point. He quickly realizes that he just has to relax his mind enough to be able to “hear” or imagine Dean’s responses and he slowly starts to feel comforted by the process.

Sam had always been more of a talker than Dean on his best days, so he figured that there was a good chance to at least annoy the crap out of Dean enough for him to tell him to shut it!

Smiling to himself and feeling lighter than he had in weeks, he leads Dean back into the bedroom and dresses him for the first time since they’d been at Lisa’s in street clothes – his favorite jeans, a worn out Metallica shirt and a dark green button down over it.

Seeing Dean standing there in his regular outfit sends a rush of inexplicable hope through Sam. The simple fact of dressing him in normal clothes expresses a sense of every day routine that he had been sorely missing.

_He’d been such an idiot! Keeping Dean in sweats and pajamas for days made him look and feel sick. And Dean would have hated it. Lisa was so right!_

He is grinning like a fool as he leads Dean down the stairs to the kitchen, where Lisa is just finishing the breakfast prep 

“Mornin’, Lisa! Hey, Ben!” Sam exclaims and keeps grinning like a kid who’s just aced an important test.

Lisa turns around with the big pan of eggs in her hand and a spatula in the other and freezes at the sight of them for just a second.

Sam looking so happy and Dean almost normal tilt her world off kilter for a split second of intense joy.

_Wow, is that how it could be? Sam’s whole face alight, hazel eyes sparkling and deep dimples in his cheeks. And Dean….looking strong and fucking hot as ever._

“Morning you two!” she feels an equally brilliant smile spread over her own face as she gestures the gang to the table. “You sleep good, I gather?”

“Yeah, we did, actually!” Sam’s expression turns slightly sheepish and he doesn’t share the small fact of _where_ he slept. “And Dean here, sat up and was ready to go on his own, before I even woke up!”

Lisa’s eyes go wide. “Really?! That’s _great_ , Sam!” she exalts fully aware what a huge step that is for a person in Dean’s situation. He’d had to at least have made that conscious decision to sit up and do something for himself.

“Yeah, right!?” Sam was back to beaming like a nine year old on Christmas morning as he leads his brother to the table and makes sure he is seated safely, before addressing him. 

“Dean, I think we’ll take a drive after breakfast, just to stretch the Impala’s legs for a bit! What’d ya think?”

“Good idea.” Lisa agrees “I have to go into work for a few hours anyway. And Ben has school and then soccer practice after. So you have the whole day to yourself pretty much!”

“Mom, can I go with Sam and Dean? Take a ride in the Impala?” Ben asks hopefully.

“What and skip school? In your dreams, buddy!” Lisa laughs and ruffles his hair.

Ben’s face falls and Sam interjects. “Hey, Ben, maybe later you can help us polish her up a bit?”

“Awesome, yeah, thanks!” the boy exclaims and Sam thinks how much Dean would love his enthusiasm for his Baby.

Breakfast is the usual affair after that, Lisa and Sam taking turns to make sure Dean eats his share, but today the mood is lighter and they are all chatting amicably and laughing at Ben’s jokes.

 _‘Could get use to this’,_ Lisa thinks wistfully and tries not to let her mind go too far ahead.

Before long Ben is out to catch the school bus and Lisa walks upstairs to get ready for work, which leaves Sam and Dean in the kitchen with the clean-up.

“Man, I am so sick and tired of the weird ass shit I’ve been reading up on lately to get you back!” Sam tells Dean “And you have no idea the strange suggestions I got from some of the other Hunters.” He huffs a laugh. “I gave up on asking pretty quick. Or you’d be sitting in a Native American sweat lodge now or being spiritually invaded by a Tibetan Shaman or doing an herbal cleansing or being hung upside down over a pit full of snakes by a Russian Healer…I’ve heard and read it all… Dude, you’d kick my ass for doing half the shit, I’ve considered trying over the last few days.”

Sam finishes up the dishes as he continues. “I even called Missouri, remember her? She sends her love, but also told me to smack you upside the head for being a pigheaded fool.” He shakes his head smiling at the thought of Missouri’s stern face and voice. “And I would do it, too, if she’d think it’ll help. But in the end she pretty much told me the same thing the doctors have– you have to find your own way back, blah blah.”

Sam had liked Missouri from the start and had really hoped that she would have a valid suggestion for him, what to do psychically to help Dean. So he’d been deeply disappointed, when she told him that there wasn’t much she could do for him and her poor health prevented her from traveling too far from home. She had put Sam in contact with a friend of hers, who lived about two hours outside Cicero. She was a natural healer and psycic as well and would be happy to evaluate Dean. He’d been considering to make an appointment just yesterday, but held off for now, still hoping he could figure it out on his own.

“So, it’s all up to you, I guess.” Sam continues and puts away the last of the dishes. He stares at Dean for a moment wishing with all his might that something would happen, that he would talk or at least look at him. He is itching to get back online and start looking at that website, he’d found yesterday about alternative therapies for PTSD victims of the recent wars, but his new commitment to make things as normal as possible keeps him on his planned track.

And so Sam starts a new routine for them that morning. They’re spending a few hours in the early part of each day driving around in the Impala, making regular stops like they’d always made at Gas-N-Sips, Coffee Shops, the Library, a local diner. After lunch Sam drops Dean with Lisa at the Health Spa and Fitness Club where she works and Lisa takes Dean through a regiment of exercises and workouts for a couple of hours. Sam sometimes joins them in or he busies himself running errands for the household or picking up Ben from various activities. Back at the house afterwards, Sam spends time on phone calls and online research, while he keeps Dean with him at the dining table, reading him some of the findings or he turns him over to Ben for _his_ regular entertainment barrage.

Over the next week Dean keeps surprising them all with anticipatory self-initiated moves, like getting out of bed in the morning or walking towards the door when it’s time to leave for their ride around, which the doctors assure them is a good sign that Dean is accepting and settling into the new routine.

Lisa and Ben’s positive outlook only improves with these new developments, while Sam is trying hard not to let himself be too excited thanks to an almost paralyzing fear of being disappointed in the end, quite sure that it would crush him for good.

It’s hard to withstand the constant outpouring of sunny support from the Braeden’s, however, try as he might to keep a more realistic outlook and Sam can’t suppress the ever growing hope taking root in his heart.

He even starts having little “conversations” with Cas here and there telling him about Dean’s progress and imploring him to come back to them.

Another new addition to the routine in the Braeden’s house is Lisa and Sam’s little ritual of taking a break from the day to have a drink and chat for a little while before going to bed.

It was halting at first, each unsure of how far to trust the other, how much to reveal, what it would mean for the future. But it quickly became clear that they felt completely at ease around each other and had very similar opinions and tastes on everything from music to books, movies to food. They also discovered that they were equal in their burning curiosity to constantly learn more, which had fueled some intense research sessions and passionate discussions about possible therapies or ways to help Dean come out of his hiding place.

Lisa cherishes these quiet moments alone with Sam and feels herself getting drawn deeper and deeper into her fascination with _both_ Winchesters.

And so time trickles on and Sam ends each day the same, leaning his forehead against Dean’s and whispering.

“Come on, man, you’re almost there. Come back to me! I need you!”

********************

Hhhmm, this is new. Sound? Drifting in and out. His name, maybe?

Someone calling him?

Yeah, maybe…Sam’s voice? Yes, he’d recognize it anywhere…..Sam…..he…..what’s that????  

A few quick images…Sam – laughing, running, swimming, grinning.

He’ll be here….he’s supposed to be….right? This is real, they are supposed to be here…both of them.

‘S a little different from their last visit….though.

Gotta check it out…


	4. Exploration

Lisa stands quietly in the doorway of the brothers’ bedroom and watches in awe as Sam slowly and carefully washes Dean with a soft cloth.

Warm light from the bedside lamp bathes them in an amber hue, setting Dean’s skin alight in a golden glow almost as if he is shining from within and painting deep shadows on Sam’s concentrated face, sharpening his features into something almost other worldly. They look like the embodiment of Light and Dark; Ying and Yang, the perfect combination.

 _Jesus, so beautiful,_ Lisa thinks completely entranced.  

Every one of Sam’s movements is deliberate and sure, speaking of an intimate knowledge of the other’s body. A knowledge unusual for brothers in its depth and complexity.

She easily recognizes the infinite love Sam exudes with every touch and move when he is taking care of Dean in this way, in every way, really, and Lisa is quite sure that Sam doesn’t realize this at all. It is simply part of him, of them – the deep connection forged through a life of circling in close proximity to each other, fighting together and for each other and picking up the pieces afterwards.

Her stomach tightens with a sharp feeling of longing and need. _It has been too damned long since anyone looked at her this way, touched her this way, gave her a little comfort and relief._ She tries to shut this line of thought down cold and quick. _No sense going down that road now….nowhere to go with it, was there?_

Since Lisa’s intervention on the fifth day in the house and through the following ten days, she gained a much better sense of the brother’s dynamic, courtesy of the long talks she and Sam have shared quietly by Dean’s bedside or in the living room every day.

Her eyes drift back to Sam, who is currently rinsing out the cloth before running it over Dean’s strong pecs and down his well-defined abs making sure no spot is missed.

The implicit privacy and intimacy of the scene in front of her makes a lump rise in her throat and she is torn between a desire to join in and be part of the almost sensual experience or slink away and shed a few tears for her own loneliness. 

Lisa has grown deeply fond of Sam in many unexpected ways which have nothing to do with the fact that he is Dean’s brother. Her bond with Sam may have started from their common desire to protect and care for Dean, but it had developed its own dynamic very quickly and she feels herself drawn to him on an emotional and physical level that scares her a little. Not to mention the fact that she is quite certain that Sam has no clue she feels that way and does not reciprocate her feelings.

None of that seems to influence her unbroken desire to have Dean back in her life in his old version, though. _Hell, if she could have them BOTH in her life – and bed – she wouldn’t be opposed,_ she realizes with a growing confusion and slight consternation. _When had she become such free spirit?_

“Hey!” Sam calls softly when he notices her standing there. She startles out of her thoughts feeling for a moment like an intruder and voyeur.

“You ok?” he asks in the same soft tone, his forehead crinkled in concern as he notices her blushed cheeks and flustered appearance. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Awhile.” She admits with a small rueful smile and her eyes lower to the floor. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“What? Don’t be silly. C’mere, you can help me.” Sam chuckles, but is a little puzzled by her sudden and unexpected reluctance. “He isn’t really cooperative today, wants to lie down before I’m done and I still need to wash his back.”

Lisa slowly walks over and sits down on the edge of the bed next to Dean. She clasps his forearm with her own, preventing him from lying back, while Sam positions himself at Dean’s back. A long glance passes between Sam and Lisa and she quickly tries to get her jumbled emotions under control, before they show too clearly on her face. Sam’s eyes tighten the slightest bit at the corners, noticing her apparent unease and her almost hungry expression, before he schools his face into a neutral state.

_Shit, what was that?!_

But the moment is over quicker than either one of them has time to truly acknowledge it, not that either of them wants to admit to it, or Sam goes back to his task.

Lisa watches as Sam starts with the freshly soaped washcloth at Dean’s neck and shoulders. Long, fluid strokes following visible patterns of muscles and bones and scars on Dean’s back – too many scars, Lisa observes and tentatively traces a particularly long, jagged one on his right shoulder blade.

“Fucking Skinwalker got a jump on him before I could get there.” Sam says in an angry tone, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing as he remembers the awful sight of Dean sinking to his knees, blood soaking his jacket and jeans.

“Did you get to a doctor?” she asks wondering at the pronounced puckered skin.

“Nope. We were in the middle of some freakin’ mountain range in Wyoming and all I could find was a rancher with at least some veterinarian experience.” Sam growls, voice tight with resentment.

“I thought you stitched each other up all the time.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah, later we did, but I wasn’t any good at it then. Think I’d just turned thirteen, maybe.” His voice trails off.

“Jesus, Sam, where was your Dad?” Lisa’s voice is full of indignation.

Sam scoffs bitterly. “Not there. Off following another bogus lead on the monster that killed our mom.”

He has the stray thought that Dean will be pissed when he does regain his senses and realizes that Cas’ reset to “virgin skin” after he’d raised him from Hell had seemingly been revoked with Cas’ destruction. 

Sighing Sam freshens up the washcloth and continues down Dean’s back now openly pausing at each scar they can both see there.

“Just like he wasn’t there for the ghoul, who took a chunk out of Dean in Idaho.” His finger rests on a rough patch of skin on Dean’s side, stroking it absentmindedly for a moment.

“ _Or_ for the witch, who send a drawer full of knives flying at us in Wisconsin – idiot shielded me from it and got one stuck in him.” Now his forefinger glides over a faint white line on Dean’s upper arm.

“ _OR_ for the Wendigo in Illinois, who almost speared him through the back!” His hand is trembling now as he brushes his thumb over another long scar close to Dean’s spine.

“But at least I was older then and had become an expert at sewing and suturing and all kinds of field medic techniques – _Dad_ taught me."

Sam closes his eyes for a moment to regain his composure and push the old image out of his mind and simply lets his hand rest on his brother’s side, savoring the reassuring feeling of his warm flesh under his palm.

“Sorry, Lis, it’s stupid…I know, it’s in the past.” His throat is dry and tight and he tries to swallow past his memory of all the close misses and the blood and guts and the fear of losing his brother – of being alone.

“No, Sam, it’s not stupid. I understand.” Lisa states calmly and puts her hand over his.

He looks up at her then, beautiful hazel eyes searching hers for support and for answers he cannot find on his own. He is struck again with the amazing patience and strength he finds looking back at him through Lisa’s warm brown eyes and his gaze lingers for a moment on her kind and beautiful face.

“It’s just so fucking frustrating that after all the shit we’ve been through – all the times I stitched him back together….” Sam’s chokes out, voice trembling with anger. “Now I can’t find a way to fix him? To bring him back to….us?”

He closes his eyes on another shuddering inhale and his hand tightens on his brother’s side. Lisa lets go of his hand and cups his face instead, softly thumbing his sharp cheekbone, at a loss for words, just trying to convey comfort and solidarity through her touch.

“Lis, I can’t stand that all I can do now is _wash_ and _feed_ him. Treat him like an invalid. He would fucking HATE that.” He grinds out between clenched teeth.

He has the almost violent urge to punch something in his mounting anger – a wall, a window, anything – no matter. His hands clench to fists involuntarily.

_GOD, he was so fucking furious with the world, with the unfairness of it all, with his own ineffectiveness to do better for Dean. If the roles were reversed, he was sure, Dean would have long found a way to get to him by now. He was even pissed at Dean for not fighting harder, not wanting to come back…_

_So, what, was that it? Rolled over, given up….he PROMISED to live his life…._

_Of course, he would never voice that….felt horrible for even thinking it…but COME ON…Dean had never given up on anything in his life – why now? Why this way?_

“Sam?” asks Lisa shaking his shoulder a little, concerned at the faraway look in his face and the building rage she can clearly read there. She is again hit with the depth of Sam’s feelings for his brother, good or bad, and finds herself longing for a person to feel the same intense way about her.

“This isn’t helping…you or him! You know that!” She watches intently as he focuses back on her and the tight lines on his face relax a little.

“I _know_ ”, she continues in her usual sure, warm tone, “that you have done this type of thing for _each other_ dozens of times over the years. One gets hurt, the other takes care of him. You told me so. _This_ is nothing new. Nothing different. You never resented Dean for helping you, when you couldn't do things for yourself, have you?”

Sam blows out a frustrated breath and mumbles. “No, that would’ve been stupid”

Lisa stares at him with wide eyes, nodding vigorously conveying the “yeah, duh” without actually voicing it.

Sam can't help but to bark out a laugh at her exaggerated expression and ducks his head in submission, consciously letting his anger drain away and taking a firm grip on his emotions.

“Yeah, well, SHIT! You got me there….” He shakes his head at himself. “It’s just a little hard to keep sight of the big picture, I guess.” He huffs out another little laugh. “You have no idea how much I miss him bitching at me for my shoddy triage skills or for forgetting to bring him pie or him complaining about crappy water pressure or lumpy pillows or a shortage of quarters for the Magic Fingers or not enough beer in the fridge or…” he breaks off as Lisa is now laughing out loud at the picture he is painting of their normal interaction. He relishes her mirth for a moment, reveling in her open heartfelt laughter.

After a moment they both fall silent and Sam turns serious once more.

“At least when he’s complaining I have _some_ indication of what to do to make him more comfortable, ya know? This silence….is killing me.” He sighs and puts away the washcloth, picking up the towel instead and drying Dean off with quick efficient movements. Then he gets up from the bed and gathers the supplies.

“I know, Hon, I get it. It’s unsettling for me, too.”

Lisa lets go of Dean’s arm and he immediately sinks back into the pillow.

When they are done settling Dean in for the night Lisa looks up at Sam and cocks her head.

“Ya know? Maybe it’s time to consider making the appointment with that psychic lady, Missouri recommended?”

Sam scowls and snorts sarcastically. “Yeah, because _that_ is right up Dean’s alley….and he wouldn't give me shit for that at all!”

“Desperate times….Sam!” she hitches. “I think in the present situation it’s more important what _you_ believe might help him.” She watches his face turn thoughtful and continues. “What’d ya think? Worth a shot?”

Sam narrows his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek staring into the middle distance and Lisa notes with a uncomfortable flip of her stomach, how that makes him look positively adorable.

“Yeah, I guess you are right. We have come quite a ways already on our own. Maybe it’s time to get a little unorthodox help from the outside. ” He suddenly grins at her with sparkling eyes. “OK, ready for our nightcap?”

“You betcha!” she quickly agrees, gathering her wits about her and walking resolutely out of the room.

Sam follows her after a moment and is again fascinated at the way she can always pull him out of the blackest mood and re-organize his priorities.

_Where would he be without her at the moment….not that he has any plans to be…without her any time soon._

_****************************_

Can hear it clearly now….Sam’s voice…definitely….calling me.

Need to go get to him….it’s time….Isn’t it?

All is calm and soft and warm here, no danger, no pain…but lonely. Sam should be here….I know it….

Why can’t I see him…so dark…is it another trick? Fucking dicks.

Sam’s voice again….”need you”…got to try and get to him…


	5. Comfort

“Sam, are you in here?” Lisa calls quietly from the door of the darkened living room late one night a few days later.

She can barely see Sam’s outline on the couch, slouched into his usual corner. She marvels at the fact that he actually has a usual corner now, so used to his presence in her house.

“Yeah”, comes his subdued voice through the darkness.

She walks up to the sofa and sits down on the armrest next him putting her hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she asks softly, knowing full well, that his frustration and disquiet have been rising again over the past few days.

After the first breakthrough and the following period observing their new routine they had all enjoyed a number of days where Dean had seemed more responsive, almost pro-active in his actions and Sam had gathered new hope and energy from these facts.

Unfortunately the positive turn in Dean’s condition had stalled out and it had been days since Sam had seen any improvement.

By now he feels like a complete failure again, unable to break through to Dean, reach him, bring him back, no matter what he tries. The highs and lows of the past weeks are exhausting him to a point that he feels like he is stumbling alone along a dark road with no end in sight, the faint promising light at the horizon never turning into day.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, trying to organize his swirling emotions into the right words.

“SHIT!” his voice sounds hoarse and broken, even to his own ears, when he finally speaks. “Lis, I really thought we’d make some more solid progress by now. This is driving me nuts.”

He suddenly feels like her hand on his shoulder is the only thing keeping him grounded at the moment. Her presence and unwavering solidarity are like iron bands around his crumbling brick facade. He feels brittle and hollow.

“I know, Sam, I get it. But we just _have_ to be patient, ok? He _will_ come back to us.” Lisa tries hard not to let his obvious anguish influence her tone and manages to keep it gentle and encouraging.

Sam rakes his hands through his long tresses and grabs them into a short ponytail at the back of his head for a moment. He heaves a huge shuddering sigh, that she feels vibrate up her arm.

“How can you still be so sure? What if….” his voice trails off, so small, childlike and lost now, that it wrenches her heart. She hurts for and with him, sharing his frustration, but she doesn’t allow herself any negativity in his presence, fully aware of his struggle to keep a positive outlook and hope for tomorrow. She knew when she took them in, that this would be a hard path and a long one, so she’d just need to buck up and be Ms. Sunshine for all of them. She can’t deny, however, that this getting harder every damned day and that she feels horribly lonely and is craving some comfort and reassurance for herself.

She starts to stroke his long hair, gently and a little hesitantly, still feeling slightly awkward at the newly formed close bond and deep connection they developed over the past weeks. But as she feels him lean into her touch and back against her body, she relaxes and plants a kiss on the top of his head murmuring into his hair. “Because he _has_ to….we need him to….and he knows that.” Her voice is strong and confident now – more so than she feels, but she hopes it’s enough to support the man in front of her to gather his courage and resilience and keep fighting for his brother.

“And ‘sides, you have that appointment with Missouri’s friend tomorrow. Don’t discount that, ok? Dean’s just a little more stuck than we thought. She’s probably just what he needs to shake something loose.” Lisa encourages, trying hard not to let her still lingering skepticism color her voice. _God, she hopes it’ll do something, help in some way as she is pretty sure that Sam is nearing the end of his rope soon and she can’t even contemplate what that would mean._

“I guess, I’m just a little freaked out…ya know…don’t wanna hang too much hope on that visit…’specially because it’s really a long shot.” Sam says in a low, soft voice. _Don’t wanna feel like it's the last resort, the last place to go before I utterly run out of ideas._ That bit he won’t voice out loud, though.

“Nonsense, Hon. You _never_ know where help may come from. I get that it’s hard. Just don’t ….you have to keep fighting, ok, always! This _will_ turn out well, just give it a little more time.”

He grunts non-commitally. And they both fall silent.

Sam feels numb and achingly empty, but his thoughts are running on an endless loop looking for missed clues, analyzing all of his research over and over again trying to see new angles, desperately searching for additional ideas. The need to help his brother, get him back, make him happy, is a constant pull at his gut and heart, slowly draining him. He doesn’t see what else he has to give, is terrified that he may not be enough to break open the shell around Dean, can’t fathom the idea that he needs to make peace with this new version of Dean, doesn’t want to think about what he would do with that reality.

Looking back up into Lisa’s warm chocolate-colored eyes, he reminds himself that he is _not_ in this alone. That Lisa must feel as lost as he is, no matter how much she portrays the always-positive cheer squad. The amount of medical research she has put in to help Sam is impressive, considering that she also has a full time job and takes care of most of the household and Ben to boot.

They keep each other going, focused on the important parts, following the new routine that Sam has set for the brothers, spending every waking moment with and around Dean. Their little nightly ritual of having a beer and sharing a few stories about their earlier years before going to bed is the only break and comfort they afford themselves. Sam has come to love this time at the end of each day and has grown to deeply care for Lisa in the process. Much more than he expected possible under the current circumstance.

“It’s just so lonely, you know?” he confesses quietly. “Without him, I mean. I just…really miss him.”

_Boy, does she know….yes. Needing some contact, some comfort from a friend; some reaction from a partner; some warmth, some connection from a lover. She feels it all as well and maybe doubly so as her affection for Sam had grown stronger every day and she is trying to navigate between a growing need for Sam and her deep fondness for Dean – but feels pretty much cut off from both._

She studies Sam’s now familiar face in the dim light for a moment, tired and care worn, and it takes all of her resolve not to kiss him right there to try and chase the dark thoughts away for at least a little while.

 _“Man, I am in so much trouble.”_ She thinks trying to decide if she should walk out of the room right now. “ _I want them both to be happy and not hurt so much. But I also want….”_

Making a snap decision she lets out a slow breath, lays a cool palm against his warm cheek and lets her thumb smooth over his eye brow and under his eye. Then she pauses for a moment, bites her lip uncertainly, her pulse speeding up, as she looks into his open face. Finally she softly thumbs along his lower lip a couple of times.  

His eyes widen and his lips part a fraction, but he doesn’t pull away. 

She lets her thumb travel once more back and forth across his lower lip and leans closer very slowly and carefully.

“Sam?” she whispers hoarsely. “Promise me you won’t laugh at me or be mad?”

He only hums in the affirmative and leans almost imperceptibly closer to her as well. 

_Jesus, what is happening here??_

Lisa’s heart feels like it’s about to jump out of her chest at what she is about to do.

“I’m lonely, too, you know? And….and…I’ve come to care for you…a lot over the past weeks.”

She searches his face for any dawning of the crazy suggestion she is about to lob at him, but Sam’s face remains open and concerned and a little…what…hopeful, maybe?

So she goes on.

“Can we….would you….maybe”, her courage fails her and she lowers her eyes from his face. _What is she doing? What the hell is she trying to achieve here? What about Dean? If he came around soon, what would that do to her chances of reconnecting with him in the way she hoped for?_

She is about to withdraw her hand from Sam’s face, when he slowly and tentatively closes his lips around the tip of her thumb and let’s his tongue run across her finger pad ever so lightly.

Her eyes snap back up to him and fix on the sight of his mouth enveloping her finger. A shiver runs down her spine and a rush of heat floods her loins, just at the sheer implication of this action.

He lets go of her thumb, but kisses it lightly before he speaks.

“Lis, what exactly are you saying _?”_ he rumbles in a low, warm tone, but there is a clear note of apprehension in there, too.

She swallows hard as she makes up her mind.

“That I…don’t wanna be…alone tonight. That we can….give each other some comfort….blow off some steam….be adults about it,” she slides her hand into his hair at his temple.

“What about Dean?” he asks, voice rough as he leans into her touch.

“Nothing changes about Dean. I care for him, just like before and I …..I do _want_ him. But, Sam, I also…God help me…I’ve come to….really like you, too. Maybe a little more than is good, but…..I… can't help it and I don’t wanna lie to you. Still…this…tonight…really doesn’t have to be anything more than… helping each other feel a little less lonely, maybe?” 

Sam’s head is spinning. _What in the world…how did that happen? Does he want to…hell yeah, who wouldn’t….Lisa is hot and amazingly caring…and they both deserve a break! BUT….what about Dean? Is he betraying his brother’s trust? Can he keep this…here…strictly business? Is he feeling more for Lisa than he is ready to admit to himself? On the other hand, if Lisa’s feeling towards him had grown…that wasn’t on him…he hadn’t encouraged anything…. No, now he was rationalizing… But if he rebuffed her, after she poured her heart out, that would leave things….tense._

_SHIT!_

“Sam?” Lisa scritches her nails lightly over his scalp. “Are you with me?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry!” Sam looks up at her, still sitting on the arm of the couch. “It’s just a little unexpected, I guess?” He smiles at her crookedly.

She stiffens slightly, sensing a gentle let down in the wings. “Ok, I’m sorry…..stupid idea, I know.” She starts to rise, but he catches her wrist, before she can take her hand back and kisses her palm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks her quietly and kisses the inside of her wrist lightly.

Her face scrunches up in confusion and she licks her lips unconsciously. “That mean….” She croaks and clears her throat quickly. “That mean…you’re in?”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly through his nose. Then he slides his hands around her waist and pulls her gently around until she stands in front of him.

“I’m saying, you’re not alone with your feelings and….having some….company tonight would be great… and….we can…try. But if it gets awkward or weird we _both_ can call a time out, no hard feelings, ok?”

His hands tighten on her waist and then slowly rub up and down her sides. The warmth of his large, strong hands relaxes her slightly and she lets her worries float away as she leans down towards him. He sits up enough to meet her halfway in an almost chaste kiss. Her soft, full mouth presses warm and enticing over his lips and a quiet sigh escapes her. Her warm breathe feathers over his mouth and a shudder gathers at the bottom of his spine at the sweet attention. He has a sudden and burning need to gather her closer, wants to feel her body against his again and he lifts her easily by the waist and pulls her in until she straddles his lap. She gives a little grunt of surprise at the sudden movement, but then settles over him and leans down to press her lips to his once more. Her hands glide into his hair and caress his neck and face with soft touches and he feels the tension leave his tight muscles as a bone-deep warmth floods through him at the long-wanted contact. He deepens the kiss, letting his tongue slide along the seam of her mouth before nipping gently at her bottom lip until she opens to him and her tongue darts into his mouth quickly almost shyly. His senses thrill at this first taste of her, hot and sweet like mulled wine on a cold winter night – exotic, spicy and enticing - her soft tongue gliding languidly over his, lips moving and sliding.

Sam lets his hands travel over her thighs and run over the lush curve of her butt before they slide under her nightshirt and up her back to her shoulder blades.

_Christ, she feels incredible – it’s been too fucking long._

Her skin is velvety soft and subtle under his palms and he marvels at the texture as he slowly caresses her back and sides, hands following the sweep of her waist over her hips and back up again; his dick gives a definite twitch of interest.

Gooseflesh starts to spread over her arms and up to her neck at the soft scrape of his blunt nails down her spine and across her ribs, pulling her skin tight and hardening the tips of her breasts with the need to be touched.

 _Jesus, his hands are just the right amount of firm and gentle._ She thinks fuzzily as she enjoys how their slightly rough texture is adding most interesting friction to each touch.

Lisa cups his jaw to tilt his head back to gain better access to his mouth suddenly desperate to get more of him, all of him, slightly panicked that he’ll change his mind any minute now. He gives a little huff at her forceful passion, but obliges her all the same as she delves in deep and starts to explore him like she’s starving for it and he gives back with equal enthusiasm until they are a slipping, sliding, tangled mess of lips and tongues and teeth. He grunts at a particularly sharp nip on his lower lip and he quickly retaliates by sucking her tongue into his mouth and gently biting at it to keep her in place, chuckling around it and sending a shivery vibration through her, before he’s letting go for a moment and pulling back breathing hard.

“What? Had enough already?” she pants at him, sliding her hands down his long neck and scratching lightly over his chest and down his stomach through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. 

“Not by a long shot….if you’re not?” He replies, voice rough and low, eyes bright and intent on her pink, wet lips.

“Nope, haven’t even really started yet.” She purrs back and pulls his shirt off over his head in one swift motion. Her soft hands trail down over his broad shoulders and strong arms appreciatively and then she leans down again and takes his mouth once more, fingers digging into his biceps.

 _Holy Crap, he is ripped – so damn hot._ She thinks desperately, heat rushing to her core, wetness spreading between her thighs.

The intensity of her kiss has Sam’s dick filling quickly now and he splays his hands across her back and pulls her in close loving the way her body immediately molds against his, connecting them as closely as possible through the fabric of her nightshirt.

She can feel his body heat radiating through her shirt and spread over her belly and breasts and she gives a slow roll of her hips down on him feeling his firm length underneath her.

Her head comes up and she looks at him, cheeks flushed, lips kiss swollen and red, repeating the motion even more slowly and settling herself firmly on top of growing erection with a quiet moan.

 _GOD, he’s big._ She reflects slightly apprehensive considering how long it’s been for her….

He looks back at up at her face and can clearly read the insecurity there, but isn’t sure where it is coming from.

“Lis?” his hands still on her waist, thumbs rubbing softly over her hipbones and along the top line of her panties. “U ok?”

“Yeah,” she breathes immediately, her heart racing. “’S nothing!” _Nothing I can’t adjust to….not doing yoga for ages for nothing …._ She thinks and flushes at the unexpected images invading her mind.

The wicked gleam in her eyes reassures him that she hasn’t changed her mind and he tugs tentatively on the hem of her shirt. “Can I?”

“Do me a favor and ditch the gentleman routine, ‘k? Just take what you want….I want this….really!” She lifts her arms in invitation and he swiftly slides her shirt off over her head.

Leaning back into the couch Sam lets his eyes rake over her in for a long moment and she feels his eyes on her almost like a physical caress – black hair tumbling over her shoulders, framing her face in wild waves, well toned arms and shoulders, gorgeous firm breasts with dark tight peaks, a slim waist flowing into curvy strong hips and thighs. _Fucking Christ, she was hot as the sun._

“C’mere!” He rasps and he reaches out for her, running his hands around to her back and all the way up into her hair. He cradles the back of her skull and pulls her head back slightly to get full access to her neck, laying a line of scorching open mouthed kisses along the long line of it and down to her collarbones and across her chest, tasting her, need thrumming through him like chords struck on a base guitar. She lets her head fall back on a long sweet sigh and revels in the way his tongue and teeth and lips set her skin on fire. Her hands roam over his neck and shoulders and down his back, feeling the muscles shudder and tense under her demanding touches.

“Fuck, you feel so good!” Sam mumbles into the crook of her shoulder and she rewards him with another slow roll and grind of her hips down over his now impressively hard length.

He feels like he can't get close enough to her and crushes her against him again, one hand sweeping her long hair over one shoulder and the other like a vice on her hip, guiding her slow undulations over him as he lifts his hips to meet her. He loves the sensation of her soft breasts nestled against his chest, drinks in the warm, spicy scent of her hair and skin as he slowly licks the outside of her ear and nibbles on her lobe. She shudders in his arms and he can feel a rush of heat emanating from her and spreading over his cock through the thin fabric of his sleep pants and her small panties.

_Jesus, she’s so eager for it! This is amazing._

She leans back from him slightly and sits up straight on his lap. “Quick thing. Protection?”

“Got some….upstairs!” he pants trying to ignore the steadily growing throbbing of his dick and building urgency for more.

“I’m on the pill.” She hedges. “Not crazy ‘bout condoms, really.” She bites her lip nervously, but the involuntary buck of his hips under her eases her mind immediately.

 _FUCK, getting to have her bare is just too good to be true, isn’t it._ Sam’s brain is hazy with the sheer thought of it and he has to suppress a groan as he feels himself leaking at the tip.

“I’m clean. Get tested all the time. Had no one for….a while.” He is breathing hard and shallow, brain demanding that they’ll get back to it.

“Good, that’s settled then.” She says and wants to curl back down towards him, when he catches her by the shoulders and let’s his hands slowly run across her collarbones and down to cup her breasts. The sensation of his calloused thumbs running lightly over her tight buds sends a shock of pleasure skittering into her belly and she can feel herself getting even wetter in a rush.

“Shit!” she moans and lets her head fall back to give him better access.

Sam leans forward and covers the tender flesh of her breasts with soft kisses, then lets his tongue lap and circle the sensitive nub and finally he closes his mouth over her nipple and suckling gently. Her hands slide into his hair and hold on tight as her whole body shivers and a long groan is ripped from her throat.

“Yeah, Sam, oh, just like that!” she breathes into his hair as he moves to her other breast to give it equal attention, while kneading and rolling her other nipple between his fingers, causing her to pull in a hissing breath at the intense sensations assailing her. 

Lisa can’t help but be reminded of her times with Dean in that moment - the way this feels so familiar, so similar and how it is so incredibly hot, that _both_ brothers can make her feel like the world around them stopped to exist, how nothing else counts but this moment. She finds herself surprised and incredibly turned on by the thought of them both laying claim to her body at once. A deep moan escapes her and she rakes her nails down Sam’s back as her thighs tighten against his and heat floods her belly. 

Sam drinks in her immediate reactions and loves the texture of her skin on his tongue and between his teeth, feeling himself grow rock hard under her rolling hips.

Their hands and mouths roam over each other’s necks and chests and shoulders and along jaws and ears and clavicles, little moans and sighs and grunts hang in the quiet air, until their lips meet again in a desperately hot and needy kiss, that leaves Sam bucking up at her again and Lisa grinding down to meet him.

“Sam, please!” Lisa pulls on the hem of his pants with desperate fingers and looks at him with wide pleasure glazed eyes. “I need to…feel you!”

She lifts up slightly as he works his pants off and then flicks them away with one foot. Standing up between his long legs, she slowly and sensually slides her panties down her legs with an enticing roll of her entire body and is pleased by the almost desperately hungry look on his face.

His groin tightens painfully at her display and Sam’s is forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. 

_Christ, I’m gonna fucking lose it in a second if she keeps going like this!_

Seeing him sitting on the couch, hair tousled and messed from her hands, muscles glistening with the first sheen of sweat over his chest and stomach, breaths coming in hard, shallow pants, cock rock hard and bobbing against his belly, pre come pearling at the slit, she licks her lips slowly and can’t help the rush of images flooding her mind of all the possibilities, all the things she wants to do with him. 

Clearly reading the sheer need and desire on her face and seeing her prowl back towards him, all swaying hips and flushed breasts, Sam feels a prickling current of electricity travel straight to his cock and his balls pull up tight. _Fuck!_

She crawls back over him, one leg on each side of his flanks, pushing him back farther into the cushions of the couch and licking a hot wet stripe up the pulse in his neck as she is sliding her incredibly hot, wet center up his hard shaft. He groans, deep and guttural, at the sensation of her slick and scorching gliding up his length and grabs at her thighs none too gently, pushing up with his hips. 

“Fucking Christ, Lisa, ‘m not gonna last for you like this….” He grinds out and nips at her shoulder as a reprimand.

“Don’t want you to last.” She pants back at him and bites lightly at his ear lobe. “Need you…now.”

Not needing to get _that_ invitation twice, he groans again and slides one hand between them letting a long nimble finger slide straight into her. She gasps and grinds back down on him and he can feel her inner muscles tighten and ripple. Sensing her burning need, he quickly adds another finger and pumps in and out of her with quick, sharp thrusts. She lifts up slightly and moves over him, eyes fluttering shut and her breasts gently rubbing over his chest as they swing with her motions on his fingers. The skin all over her body feels like it’s on fire and a wave of ever increasing little shocks of pleasure ripple up her thighs towards her core as she rides his long strong fingers.

 _GOD, she is so wet and hot for him._ Sam makes himself count backwards from 10 a couple of times to try and stave off the quickly building orgasm. _He wasn’t gonna come untouched like a fucking teenager, no matter how long it’d been!_ He swears to himself.

But they’ve been both so starved for comfort and closeness and simple need of another’s attention that this can’t last long, no matter how much they both wish to draw it out and enjoy this for all it’s worth. Their bodies are wound up so tight with want and an almost animalistic need to connect, they won’t allow for a slow pursuit of pleasure, but demand satisfaction….now.

Sam’s control breaks first and slips his hand free to grab Lisa close to him and lift and roll them on the sofa until she comes to lay under him. A couple of frantic moments of rearranging limbs and adjusting positions later, Sam kneels between her spread thighs and leans down over her, catching her mouth in a demanding and possessive kiss, that has her arching up towards him with sheer lust. She grabs his hips then, hooks one leg over the back of the couch and pulls the other up towards herself to see the head of his cock nudge at her and then slowly sink into her with a bone-deep groan from Sam.

“Oh, GOD,” she almost whimpers as his cock fills her hard and deep, stretching her quickly, almost painfully, but _oh sooo good!_

Sam stills for a moment, buried up to his balls in her incredibly wet, tight center and a lump rises in his throat at the privilege of being allowed to share this with her, be this close. He kisses her slowly, deeply and tries to convey his feelings of gratitude and care with it.

“’S ok, Sam! Love you, too!” she wheezes and her hands slide down his back and grab on to his ass tightly.

He sucks her bottom lip between his and bites at it gently as he starts to move, guided and encouraged by her fingers digging into his firm round ass.

 _Fucking Christ, she has incredible control over her lower muscles._ Sam thinks approvingly as she clenches and loosens around him increasing the friction and pleasure several fold, keeping pace with the ever-increasing speed of his thrusts.

She lifts towards him in time with every downwards snap of his hips, her free leg wrapped tightly around his lower back to urge him on and draw him in deeper. Sam pumps and shoves and twists his hips, looking for ever better angles to fuck into her, sheathing completely in her velvety slick heat.

There was no holding back for either of them, their bodies move with each other in perfect rhythm, straining towards each other in the all-consuming need to connect more closely, fill and be filled more fully, feel nothing but each other’s hands and lips and teeth and breath and melting into each other in every way possible. Bodies slick with sweat, hands scrabbling for purchase, lips and teeth locking on each other’s shoulders and neck, with grunts and hisses and moans, their movements growing to a frightening intensity.

Lisa suddenly digs her nails into Sam’s shoulders and seizes. “Oh, oh, God, Saaaaam!” a shout rips out of her and she convulses under him and bowing her back fiercely upwards. He slides one arm around her back clutching her close and grabs her leg under her knee spreading her wider with the other as he’s pumping into her hard and fast. Her orgasm rips through her forcefully, leaving her body shuddering and jerking in his arms and he can feel her muscles lock firmly around his cock twitching and undulating.

A sudden thought flits through Sam’s pleasure muddled brain – an image really, of Dean with Lisa tangled up in each other, skin glistening, muscles bunching and straining, Dean fucking her hard and fast – just like he is – now….

 _It’s too much, too hot, too vivid_ and Sam’s brain explodes with the pleasure of it, hips stuttering and faltering as his climax feels like it’s pulling all the heat and liquid out of him in one monumental rush. His breath is pushed out of his lungs forcefully on a long groan and he collapses back against the couch with Lisa in his arms. When is brain clears of the immediate haze, Sam picks up his movements slowly and languidly, friction eased and gentled by their combined fluids, milking their pleasure to the last drop. She kisses his chest and neck and chin and laps little trickles of sweat off his skin as they slowly ease each other back down from the dizzying ride.

When he finally stills and only the occasional tremor or twitch still courses through them, they simply lie there, closely intertwined and breathing in each other’s scent and relishing each other’s warmth; savoring all the sensations and emotions they can before they inevitably have to part.

Sam is rubbing soothing little circles on Lisa’s lower back as she is playing idly with the sweat damp hair at the nape of his neck, when she finally murmurs. “ _That_ was incredible, Sam.”

He chuckles low and warm and squeezes her closer for a moment. “Yeah, it really was. _Thanks_ , Lis.”

She can hear the sincerity in his voice and smiles into his skin. _Well, it wouldn’t be the last time this happened, if it was up to her!_

“Just what the doctor ordered.” she yawns against his neck.

“Hhhm, you got that right!” he murmurs sleepily.

Eventually Sam pulls out carefully, but immediately gathers Lisa in close again and she snuggles more firmly against him, both unwilling to let go quite yet.

“We probably should….”

“Yeah, definitely…. soon….”

And Sam pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and covers them both with it.

****************************************

Sam wakes up, because his feet are cold and it takes him a moment for his sleep-muddled brain to connect all the dots.

A little huff against his chest snaps the final piece into place and he smiles into the total darkness.

Squinting at the time on the DVR he gathers that they slept about four hours and he decides quickly that it would be wiser for everyone involved to break up this little love fest and, before Ben discovers them on the couch the next morning.

Carefully disentangling himself from Lisa, who is out stone cold, he eases off the couch and picks up first their clothes and then her sleeping form to move all of them to the second floor.

As he is laying her down gently on her pillows and covering her diligently with her duvet, he is still smiling to himself.

 _Damn, that was just fucking amazing…and hopefully not the last of it._ He thinks fondly and kisses Lisa on the forehead before slinking off to his own bed.


	6. Trigger

During the quick breakfast the next morning the atmosphere between Lisa and Sam is comfortable and relaxed, although neither brings up last night’s events within earshot of Dean or Ben. A few knowing glances are all that’s passing between them and they are both content in the knowledge that this hasn’t changed their dynamic in any awkward way. When Ben runs upstairs to gather his school gear, San risks hugging Lisa tight on his way out the door and he whispers, “Sorry for dumping you in your bed last night…I just thought….”   “Totally perfect.” she whispers back and squeezes him back hard. And that is that…no further conversation needed.

It takes Sam just under two hours to reach Kappi’s house on the outskirts of Nashville, Indiana. Set far back from the road on a large lot shaded by old pine trees, with its dark timber frame and high gables trimmed in decorative wood carvings, it looks like a witch’s house in the forest of some old German fairytale, but Sam finds it intriguing, inviting and warm.

 _Probably the point…before the witch feeds you gingerbread and then cooks you for dinner._ He thinks with a chuckle. _Dean would get a total kick out of this._ He realizes and laughs out loud. 

“Man, I wish you could see this!” he looks sideways at his brother while carefully navigating the potholed drive. “You would so totally gear up to the teeth at this sight!”

 _Damn hippie psychic creeps_ – his brother would gripe and never ever let her lay a hand on him.

"Yeah, and that’s exactly why I have to do this _for_ you, dude! Because you wouldn't even consider it!”

Sam had kept up a constant ”dialogue” with Dean on the way here, admittedly mostly to hide his own nerves.

Knowing exactly that Dean would scoff at the idea of letting a “sensitive” try to read him and how he’d fight tooth and nail against it is only part of the reason causing Sam’s disquiet.

He is also painfully aware that this is his last resort; the only – if unorthodox – halfway sane way left to try to make a connection with his brother and gain some understanding of his current state of mind.

Short of taking Rudy’s advice and dragging Dean to the suggested Russian Healer, Sam has run out of options.

He and Lisa have pretty much tried every conventional method of therapy, all of which the doctors claimed to be of adequate results, but none of which seemed to have made a real difference in Sam’s view.

Dean is responding to physical therapy with Lisa well enough, has been cooperative and has even gone farther than asked a few times – a fact Sam teases Dean over mercilessly, remembering his brother’s aversion to gym work in general.

Aside from all that, Sam has considered every supernatural method of communicating with Dean from African Sleep Root to astral projection and spells, but since Bobby and Pamela are both gone, he doesn’t trust anyone enough to perform the required rituals and keep them both safe in the process.

_So, here they were, end of the line, last stop before….what? Giving up? Just waiting?_

Sam heaves a deep sigh as he parks the Impala next to an old weathered-looking Ford Pickup at the side of the house, where the walk to the front door starts.

“Alright, man, time for the Vulcan mind meld.” He gives a shaky laugh and opens the door hearing the customary creak of the Impala’s old hinges.

As he opens the passenger side door, he is surprised by Dean, who is already swinging his legs around and starting to rise out of the shotgun seat almost before Sam has the door fully open.

“Hey, wait a sec, Dean!” he shakes his head and grabs for his brother’s arm. “Since when are you so eager to get your brain rooted around in, huh?”

 _Let's just get this fucking thing over with –_ he imagines Dean grumbling in his head, but he can’t help the surge of hope flooding him at the thought that Dean somehow senses this visit to Missouri’s old friend to be of help in some way.

He puts Dean’s hand on his arm and leads him to the front door of the small house, which is flanked by two large beds of wild flowers and herbs in a riot of colors. Sam draws in a deep breath of tantalizing smells and feels himself instantly lose some of his nervous energy.

 _Huh, well, if that was intentional, too…this lady is good!_ He thinks and draws in another deep lungful of the sweet and sharp scents around him.

Before he can even knock, the door opens and a short round woman with a head full of bushy brown hair and kind, deep blue eyes stands in front of him. He is relieved to see that she isn’t sporting any kind of esoteric hippie outfit, but is dressed in jeans, a t-shirt advertising a book store in Seattle and a long worn- looking sweater jacket. She gives the impression of a compassionate teacher paired with a kind librarian, which is a combination that instantly sets Sam at ease and gives him a feeling of trust towards her.

He is trying to rein in his rush of comforting emotions, reminding himself that this could just as well be a trick or the influence of the plants growing in front of the house.

She sticks out a small, tanned hand and shakes his firmly and heartily. “Sam, very nice to meet you!” Then she turns to Dean, takes his hand as well and does the same thing. “Dean, thanks for coming to see me! Won't you please come in?”

She steps back from the door and leads them both through a small foyer and then into a large airy living room with a set of French doors overlooking a sun-drenched back patio and small clearing in her forest-like back yard.

Sam looks around discreetly, quickly noting all possibly exits and hiding places and Kappi suppresses a smile at his effort to hide his Hunter’s nature.

“Go on, take a look around! I need you to be comfortable here or it won’t work.” She pats him on the arm. “I’ll make us some tea,” she says and strides off purposefully in the direction of what seems to be the kitchen.

Sam relaxes noticeably at her open demeanor and willingness to let him ensure safety for Dean and for himself.

He moves them both into the middle of the multi-purpose room, which is taking up most of the footprint of the house and surprises Sam with its bright and open atmosphere. Judging from the outside, he’d expected something more…. _medieval, maybe?_ _Stupid, really_.

His eyes glide around the room, noticing the wide boarded pine wood floors, comfortable well-used furniture and cheerful light colors on the walls. There are beautifully crafted floor-to-ceiling book shelves on one wall; antique maps and star charts and pressed plants in glass frames surrounding a stone fireplace on another wall; a small alcove with built-in benches and a sturdy wooden table set into the third, which is otherwise dominated by a set of steep, rough-hewn wooden stairs leading to a loft space under the dark wooden rafters. The entire space gives off a sense of comfort, earthiness, no-nonsense daily use and very little in the usually expected overwrought supernatural psychic vibe.

 _He shouldn’t be surprised,_ he chided himself, _Missouri wasn’t exactly the esoteric kind either. These women are simply blessed with a gift and make the best use of it to help others who are less fortunate._

Kappi steps back into the living room at that moment with a large tray loaded with a pitcher of iced tea and small sandwiches. Sam jumps to help her, leaving Dean standing in the middle of the room, hand slightly outstretched where Sam’s arms has lost contact with him a second ago. His fingers grope at the empty air for a moment, a movement missed by Sam, whose back is turned to his brother, but sharply noted by Kappi, who observes Dean’s feeble attempt to find his brother, before letting his arm fall to his side.

She gives a small smile and a nod, remembering Missouri’s careful words on how these two had an unusually strong bond with each other. Kappi can feel it already, but doesn’t know yet what it means or how she can help. She hadn’t asked Missouri any questions, preferring to have a clean slate with her customers for the first meeting, trying to avoid preconceived notions about what they were looking for or what she should be finding.

“Thank you, Sam,” she says, and clears room on the table in between two massive sofas, before she pours a glass of tea for each of them and puts a straw in the one for Dean.

“Sit down in the chair, if you don’t mind?” She points to the high-backed leather chair sitting on the short side of the table and Sam sinks into it gingerly, resisting the urge to stay close to Dean.

“Dean, come sit here next to me!” she says and leads the older brother over to one of the sofas before settling down next to him.

Sam is struck by her casual way of interacting with them both as if they were all longtime friends meeting for a friendly chat to catch up. He wonders how much Missouri told Kappi already and what he needs to fill in, in order for her to have a start to… _do her thing._

“Uuuhmm, thanks for seeing us,” he starts, slightly awkward. “I….Missouri said…” he falters, not sure where to begin.

“Sam, I am glad to be of help, if I can. Doubly so, because you two mean a lot to Missouri and we all know, she doesn’t often get the warm fuzzies over anybody!” Kappi smiles warmly at Sam and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, you got that right!” he says remembering the way Missouri ordered Dean around during their first meeting, making his brother intensely uncomfortable around psychics ever since until he could determine, if they were quacks or the real deal. 

“So, you are wondering what I know and what I can do for you,” she states more like fact than a question and Sam simply nods.

“I don’t know much,” Kappi says looking straight and sincerely into the young man’s eyes conveying her truthfulness and opening herself up to whatever may come from Sam. “Missouri only said that Dean had some type of trauma and hasn’t come back to himself since. He is physically healthy, but unresponsive. And you want to find a way to bring him back. Did I get all that right?”

Sam nods again and scrunches his face up slightly in thought. “Do you need to know more? About….about the…trauma…I mean?”

Kappi looks at Dean for a moment and puts her hand on his arm. “It could be helpful to know, what pushed him over, but not in detail, just your best guess of the initial cause.”

Sam is chewing on his lower lip in thought about how to best sum up the last few moments in Stull cemetery before Dean collapsed, when he hears Kappi’s quiet, sympathetic voice.

“Massive loss? Wasn’t it, Dean?”

His eyes snap over to where Kappi is holding one of Dean’s hands between her own and staring at his brother’s impassive face with a sad little smile. 

“Yeah”, Sam whispers suddenly hoarse with emotion, “he thought he’d lost the three people closest to family in his life in one go. Saw two of them…die…right there and thought I’d be next.”

“That makes sense then. Thank you for telling me.” She gently lays down Dean’s hand on his thigh and turns back to Sam instead. “Ok, I can work with that. No need to tell me more.”

Sam smiles at her gratefully and asks, “So, what’s your method….or…gift, I guess, is the better word?”

Her mouth quirks at his carefully chosen words as she settles more comfortably into the sofa.

“Well, I am an empath. I am able to _get into people’s head_ \- for ease of explanation – and interpret their feelings and thoughts. It’s not mind reading, but more of a merging of minds that I can achieve by focusing energies through specific crystals and stones.”

Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Kappi flashes a warning but amused look at him with sparkling blue eyes “And if you bring up the Vulcan mind meld – I’ll kick your bony ass!”

Sam flushes bright red and grins at her sheepishly. “Sorry!”

“It’s ok! I get it! Everyone coming here always tries to make sense of what I can do within their own reference points. I think I’ve heard it all! No, I don’t talk to dead people. No, I don’t commune with spirits from the beyond. No, I don’t use bells and whistles. No, I can’t find the location of the hidden fortune in gems and jewelry after someone’s gone.” 

He laughs out loud as she describes the usual M.O. of every bad psychic he’d ever seen – in movies _and_ real life.

“What I _can_ do is immerse myself in the subject’s mind and try to make sense of what’s there, even if it isn't making sense to the person themselves.”

She puts a hand on Dean’s then, seemingly to get his attention, lifts the tea glass to his lips and lets him take a couple of sips. There is something so motherly in the gesture, so natural and unpretentious, that Sam suddenly has to swallow hard against a huge lump in his throat. He quickly takes a sip of his own tea and clears his throat, but she already sensed his sadness, before she even noticed the sad expression flitting over his features.

“So, how does it work?” He inquires with real curiosity when he is sure that his voice is steady again.

“A human’s mind, thoughts and feelings, are mostly energy”, she explains as she sets Dean’s tea glass down, but keeps his hand in hers. “They create resonances, pictures, sounds. And with the right medium and focus, I can read them. That’s as simply as I can explain it. There is a lot more to it, though. It doesn’t always work. It depends on the intensity and import of the person’s need and thoughts when I merge our minds. If they are too far gone, or not able to express themselves, I only get very vague glimpses.”

Sam’s stomach tightens at the thought, how stuck Dean seems to be and an intense fear that he is one of the “too far gone” blooms in his chest. 

He suddenly feels Kappi’s warm, dry hand on his forearm and looks up at her.

“Baby, don’t worry, before we know for sure, ok? I honestly think it’ll work well with Dean. I can already feel a lot of emotion coming off him. He seems to be a very passionate person and that is always a good start.”

 _Yeah, passionate is a good word – or insanely pigheaded._ Sam thinks a little sarcastically, but also fondly.

He takes a deep shaky breath and simply nods. He knows from Missouri that Kappi has had a lot of success with coma patients and other trauma victims, which is the main reason that he finally relented and came here. But Missouri had also mentioned that many people seek Kappi’s help, when they are spiritually stuck and looking for a different way to shape their lives. As if reading his thoughts, Kappi continues to explain.

“Another thing filtering into the read is the energy flowing from the universe. I know that sounds like a bunch of new-agey crap, but let me explain it. There are certain paths each individual person is most suited to take to be successful on. It’s not destiny, it’s not predetermined….you always have a choice, free will. But the individual’s energy will get out of whack and scattered, when they take a path that it too far from what is best compatible with them. That person would be unhappy, edgy and restless all the time.”

Sam’s brow is furrowed and his lips pressed in a thin line with the effort to understand, to stay open minded and positive. _Who was he to judge someone’s worldview or spiritual belief if they were helping others with it, right? Still it sounded an awful lot like a convenient way to explain away problems._

“For example – you and Dean are Hunters.” She looks straight at him, calmly, and her tone leaves no doubt that she is not talking about _deer hunting_.

Sam is startled by the admission that she knows about that, he wasn’t expecting to have to go _this_ deep into their personal lives, for this to work.

“I…uhm…did Missouri…?” he stutters, trying to decide how to best handle this new situation.

Kappi laughs. “Honey, she didn’t have to, it’s pouring off you two. Easy to feel for anyone who is even remotely talented in empathy or psychic reading!” She takes a sip of her tea and then offers Sam a sandwich, which he accepts automatically, without taking his riveted eyes of her.

“Yeah, I know about the supernatural world….how can I not?! And I do know a few Hunters, too. Some are coming here for help, guidance, insight, ya know. But even if I didn’t know all that, I can clearly read that Dean and you are on exactly the right path – the one most suited to your energies. And you _know_ that to be true.”

Kappi takes another sip of her tea and continues firmly.

“Ok, back to the example. You two are Hunters and that’s not only training and heritage and your own intent, it has a lot to do with the fact your own energies fit best into the flow of the universe that way. Now, there are other things you can probably do and be mostly happy and content with – things that have similar energy foot print as the Hunter’s job does….cop, maybe, or mythology professor, or shaman or soldier….don’t laugh!” she exclaims, holding up a hand towards him, as she sees Sam’s face grow ever more incredulous at her suggestions, his eyebrows are nearly disappearing in his hair line. “Think about it….all of these cover at least _parts_ of what a Hunter does – warrior, wise man, teacher.”

“Huh,” Sam grunts non-committal.

“Finding and following the path that is best suited to you is a rare gift and it is most often not the easiest or even the most appealing.” Kappi looks at Sam sadly for a moment, imagining how much they must have both sacrificed to be here. “But, Sam, in the _end…._ it is the most rewarding!”

Sam lets that sink in a moment and thinks about it hard. He has to admit to himself that no matter how much he resented the life they were forced to lead when they were young; no matter how much he rebelled and wanted to leave it all behind to live a “normal” life; no matter how much he had yearned to go to school and find a girl and get out; he realized in the last year or so, that he was always most content and at ease when he was, in fact, in the midst of it all. The hunting, researching, traveling with Dean, fighting monsters and saving people – all of it – had always fulfilled him in a way nothing else had been able to.

Even at school, with Jess, there had always been a lingering restlessness, an itch at the back of his mind that something was missing….. Could he have been so blind for so long? Totally missing the obvious? Fighting all the people who tried to tell him that he was where he belonged?

“Sam, don’t beat yourself up over it, ok?” Kappi said in a soft, understanding tone. “You are lucky in a lot of ways….and I don’t mean to make light of your loss and suffering to get to this point, ok? But many people never find the way they were meant to go. They don’t understand or believe what the universe is trying to show them. Aren’t open minded enough to seek help or even contemplate the possibilities. So they end up pretty much miserable or at least not content for all their lives. _You_ on the other hand figured it out pretty quick.”

At that Sam lets out a harsh laugh and thinks bitterly. _“Yeah, it only took almost unleashing the Apocalypse and losing pretty much everyone we loved in the process to get me to that understanding, didn’t it!? Jesus!”_

He rakes his hand through his thick hair. His stomach flips uncomfortably at the thought that his reluctance and stubbornness may have caused the loss of so many of their friends and family. 

Kappi senses the distress and crushing guilt that suddenly flows from him.

“Sam, don’t go down that way.” She calls his attention back to her, leaning towards him and taking his hands firmly into hers. “I don’t know what you feel so guilty about, but you cannot make yourself responsible for everyone else’s choices or the roads they elected to travel! Remember what I said – Free Will! You can only do right by everyone close to you for the time your paths intersect.”

She doesn’t’ say it out loud, but she can clearly feel that Sam has always done his best, to the best of his ability and understanding, and was never malicious or hurtful in his intent. He had never run or hidden from a challenge and that was all anyone could ask of any person.

He looks at her thoughtfully, still harboring a certain amount of doubt in his eyes, but she decides to press on. If he needed help to sort himself out, they’d need to do that another day.

“Back to our problem at hand, what’d ya say?” she asks gently and he nods immediately and is grateful to be able to concentrate on the present instead of the mind-numbingly difficult past.

“So, you and Dean are clearly on the right path. And that should help me to read him and see, if there is something missing or off-kilter here. If he’s stepped off the road and gone wandering off into the woods, so to speak.” Kappi continues in a confident tone. “And hopefully I can get some insight on where he is and how we get him back on the right road.”

“Okay.” Sam sits up straight taking a deep breath and feels hope seeping back into him, bolstered by her sure tone. “So, how can I help?”

“I need about five minutes to center myself and then another five or so to see, which conduit is best suited for Dean,” Kappi says as she gets up. “If you can get Dean to lie down on the sofa here or at least recline a bit this way, it’ll make it much more comfortable for both of us.”

With that she departs for the back rooms, Sam has no view into and that leaves him alone with Dean.

“Well, okay, dude, time to meet Spock then”, he murmurs taking care not to be overheard by Kappi. “Can you slide over a bit and stretch out?” he asks as he picks up Dean’s legs, takes his boots off and then swings them around and arranges Dean on the couch in a half upright position with his head resting on the side by Sam’s chair.

When Sam rises from the sofa, Dean’s hand suddenly grasps his biceps and squeezes. Sam’s eyes fly wide and he can feel the color drain from his face as he watches his brother’s face raptly for any minute change of expression. “Dean? What’s up?” he asks in a whisper. “Can you hear me? What’d ya need?”

His heart is racing in his chest and he is holding his breath, terrified that he may miss the slightest sound coming from his brother.

A small smile pulls at the corners of Dean’s mouth and he flexes his fingers on Sam’s upper arm harder, but the empty expression in his eyes never clears or focuses on Sam. Still the younger Winchester is ecstatic at even this little bit of reaction from the Elder and he closes his hand over Dean’s on his arm.

“I’m here, Dean. I’m not leaving you. Ok? This will be good.” he blinks hard to push back hot tears pricking his eyes. “Just come back to me, ok? Can you do that? Let Kappi help?” He cups his hand around the side of his brother’s neck and tightens his hold gently. “I need you, ok?”

Kappi reenters the room at that moment and sees the two so intimately connected on the sofa. A powerful wave of love and need and purpose washes over her from the direction of the Winchesters and pushes at all of her senses for a moment, causing her to gasp quietly.

 _Oh Boy, is that what it is?!_ She muses and smiles to herself, _So simple and yet so difficult to make them understand._

Sam looks up then and pulls his hand back from Dean’s neck quickly sitting up straight, slightly embarrassed to be caught in a “chick flick moment” Dean would be mortified by. Dean’s hand disconnects from Sam’s arm, but flexes again at the air, looking for contact and this time Sam notices and stares in wonder at his brother.

“Kappi, I think he’s…” Sam starts but then trails off at a loss for words.

“Yeah, he seems pretty close to the surface at the moment”, she nods and pushes Sam up gently from his position at Dean’s side. He gets up reluctantly, but lets her maneuver him back to the chair he occupied before. “He did this earlier, too, when you helped me with the tray.”

Sam’s posture stiffens and he stills completely and his eyes are going even wider, shining a warm brown-green, making him look like a baby antelope staring at its mother for the slightest signal of what to do next.

“It’s _good_ , Sam. Real good.” Kappi says in a quiet and calm voice. “That means he is going to be easy to read, probably already looking for a way to connect.”

The younger Winchester relaxes visibly and blinks several times trying to get moisture back in his eyes after staring first at Dean and then at Kappi without blinking for too long.

She sits down on the sturdy low table and puts a highly polished cherry wood box next to her on the surface. “Now, hush, and let me get connected with Dean. It’ll take a few minutes. When I am done and start talking to you, feel free to interact with me, ok? I’ll be able to hear you and speak to you. Just don’t move around or touch Dean, unless I tell you to.”

“Ok” Sam breathes still preoccupied with the feeling of Dean’s grip on his arm a moment ago. _God, had he missed this….any reaction from his big brother._

Kappi now opens the box and Sam can see a variety of crystals, rough and polished stones and talismans inside.

She takes a few deep centering breaths and Sam finds himself breathing with her and calming down even further. Then she gently places her right palm on Dean’s forehead.

The next minutes are filled with complete silence, while Sam watches Kappi take one after the other object out of her box and hold it with closed eyes in her left hand for a moment, while staying connected to Dean with her right.

When her left hand closes around a large clear quartz sphere with a small flaw at its center a tremor runs through her body and she nods in acknowledgement. She stays quiet for a moment longer and then says in a low, warm tone.

“Yes, that makes sense. I can read him very clearly now, Sam. Give me a moment to get a little oriented.”

Sam’s mouth and throat go completely dry and his heart starts to gallop again, but he sits still as a statue, afraid to break whatever tenuous connection Kappi has with Dean.

 _It’s gonna work, it’s gonna work, it has to work!_ Repeats over and over in his mind and he can feel his hands shaking in his lap.

“He can sense you….knows that you are close…..most of the time.” Kappi finally says in a quiet but firm voice. “Sometimes you slip away, but he knows you’ll be back.”

 _Oh GOD, yes, he knows, I’m here!!_ Sam feels like fireworks going off in his brain with elation at the knowledge, that Dean is _there,_ that he isn’t an empty shell and hasn’t given up.

“Is he….is he….ok? Or in pain or….” Sam croaks, trying to squeeze words past his seemingly paralyzed voicebox.

“He’s fine, Sam. No pain. He feels good, content, mostly. His mind believes that he is in the _right_ place, but you are missing. He’s waiting for you. He is expecting you on…. _his side_.” He faces scrunches up in concentration.

“His side? I don’t know, what that means.” Sam’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Hold on, he….he knows you are close, but he doesn’t want to go _to_ you. Thinks it’s the wrong way to go. There’s….pain and loss…bad memories…if he moves towards you. It’s like there is a wall or a curtain….no, that’s not it… _he_ keeps that separation between this place and…. _you_ …”

Sam wants to scream in frustration at the oracle like vagueness of her words, but he forces himself to stay calm.

“Where is he? How can I reach him there?”

“HHHmmmm, I can’t make out where he is exactly. It’s….murky….I see….water…dark water….a lake, maybe? Mountains in the background….there is a float or….an island? Dean feels good here. He remembers being happy here….before….with you.”

“Do you actually _see_ him?” Sam’s voice is rising in pitch, hopeful. “Does he speak to you? Can you ask him….”

Kappi raises the hand she is holding the quartz in and silences Sam but doesn’t break her concentration or her hold on Dean’s forehead. “I can’t see him - I _feel_ what he’s feeling, see around him, but I cannot directly communicate with him.”

Sam’s gut clenches at her words. _Christ, how is he going to show Dean where to go then? That he can’t stay there._

“Dean is starting to worry. He believes that you should have been there by now. It was… _promised_ , maybe?” Kappi cocks her head as if listening intently to a faraway voice. “He doesn’t understand what could have kept you.”

 _A Lake, mountains, promises?!_ None of that made sense to Sam at the moment, but he tried to commit it all to memory for later analysis.

Kappi continues before he can ask another question.

“There is anger there, too, a growing feeling of betrayal, being let down…not for the first time?”

“What? Oh, God….” Sam’s eyes prick again at Kappi’s words, sure that Dean’s disappointment is directed at him for failing to get there, save him.

Kappi hears the break in Sam’s voice and looks up at his agonized expression with kind blue eyes. “No, baby, he’s not angry with you…I can clearly tell _that.”_ As she grabs his hand he is startled by the electric buzz hitting his skin, traveling quickly up his arm and making gooseflesh erupt violently all over his body. She looks at him sharply for a moment, but doesn't say anything and doesn’t let go. Then she retrieves her hand to close it around the crystal sphere again and closes her eyes once more. Sam’s is left with a profound sense of loss as the sensation of her touch slowly fades.

_Dean? Was that Dean?_

“He is afraid for you. Worried something _went wrong_. He is starting to wonder if he should go looking for you, but he is terrified of leaving this place. It feels safe and real and right to him and he is convinced this is where you will find him.” She pauses and her frame trembles for a moment, while she is drawing in a sharp breath. 

“What is it?” Sam asks urgently. “Something wrong?”

“Sorry, it’s just really intense…..the way he feels for you.” She swallows hard and is quiet for so long, Sam thinks she has withdrawn from Dean. 

But then she speaks again.

“He thinks that this place is the only way you two can have a future together. Because it ended well here in the past. He doesn’t want to let go of it. He expects only loss and pain and hurt, if he goes _down._ He feels _down_ is the way backwards.”

 _What?? Future – Past? Down – Back?_ Sam was thoroughly confused now. Dean’s thoughts were obviously getting less clear to read.

“ _Quick_ , Sam, _give me your hand!”_ Kappi suddenly whispers urgently and Sam immediately stretches out his hand to her, driven by her tense tone.

She takes it and places it on Dean’s cheek, while keeping her own on top of his. Immediately the low current buzz runs through Sam’s hand and up his arm again and slowly spreads all over his body. It is both eerie and comforting somehow. And his eyes flutter shut.

 

*************************************

_SAM, did you finally make it?_

_Jesus, took you long enough! Thought you’d figure it out quicker, being the smart one and all._

_Don’t you remember the summer we had here? Best ever, right?!_

_Dad gone, just us._

_Ok, there was that little thing…but the rest?! Awesome, right?_

_The cabin, the lake, the fishing, the barbecues, canoes and real hunting…_

_Sam?? I can’t….Sammy, no, WAIT, please, STAY!_

_*****************************************_

“ _Fuck!_ What was that?” Sam pulls back almost violently as he is zapped with a sharp shock.

Kappi’s whole face is tense with concentration, her eyes still closed and she is gripping the quartz again, so hard that her knuckles stand out stark white against her tan skin.

Then she takes a long, deep breath and strokes Dean’s face once, twice with gentle care.

“It’s ok, Dean, rest now. He’ll be back.” she murmurs and finally opens her eyes.

“ _What_ was that?” Sam exclaims again and stares at her in shock.

“What did you see?” she asks him, quiet urgency in her voice.

“I dunno….I felt…I felt….not myself.” He stares at the opposite wall, but his eyes are unfocused, looking inwards. “Uhm, there were images, but really fuzzy, like looking up through water.” He remembers feeling breathless. “Yeah, I think there was a lake and woods…and a pier, maybe. And then water…really cold water…. and then Dean was there and stared right at me. His mouth was moving…but I…I couldn’t hear him. He was reaching for me and then….”

 _He kissed me,_ Sam thought shakily, disbelievingly, but didn’t voice it out loud.

“And then….” Kappi probes.

“Sorry, then I got zapped with something and….came back…I guess,” Sam finishes the story.

They are silent for a moment.

Kappi’s mind goes a mile a minute, trying to figure out the best course of action. _Jeeesum, these two were clueless! They were so clearly in love with each other, it should be obvious to everyone….well, maybe it was, to all, but them. She had rarely encountered two beings to utterly connected and entangled, unable or unwilling to exist without the other. There was no denying it or reversing it. But she also felt strongly that it was something they needed to figure out by themselves. All she could do was nudge them back onto the path together and whatever came from that, however deep the connection would manifest, would need to be decided on by the two Winchesters themselves. She didn’t judge, didn’t condemn, didn’t presume to understand all forces in the universe. What was abundantly clear to her was that it was LOVE. Love so pure and strong that it had manifested physically just a moment ago, when they had tried to reach each other. And THAT was such rare and special gift that she was not about to contradict it, no matter who the involved parties were._

“Kappi?” Sam nudges her hand gently. “What _was_ that?”

She sighs deeply and takes his hand in hers once more.

“That, Sam, was Dean trying to reach you. In his own way.”

Sam feels his eyes well up fast, too fast to stop them from flowing over. This is the first tangible proof that Dean’s soul or essence or whatever makes Dean _Dean_ is actually inside of him and he has a sense of his surroundings and _wants_ Sam around. The relief Sam feels at this is almost dizzying and he can’t suppress a half sob half laugh breaking from his chest.

“Oh GOD, that is _great_ news, Kappi! First great news in a while!” he hiccups another laugh and wipes at his cheeks with his sleeve trying to contain his euphoria.

“I agree”, Kappi says smiling brightly, but keeping her tone even. “It is great news. We know that Dean is well and safe and he wants to connect with you – all good things.”

Sam sobers a little. “I hear a ‘but’ coming,” he says cautiously.

“ _But_ ”, Kappi continues and looks more seriously at Sam, “we also know that he is well and safe and _waiting_ for you. Do you see the problem here?”

“Yeah, he doesn’t see the need to leave where he is to come _to me_.” Sam says quietly.

“Right! So, what we need to do is figure out _where_ Dean is. What that place means to him. Why he is so convinced that this is the _one_ place you’ll find him?” Kappi encourages him, “Think!”

Sam wracks his brain, tries to recall the pictures he’d seen in the short fuzzy vision, tries to fit in the info Kappi extracted from Dean’s feelings. But try as he might, he is coming up empty. There’d been several summers by some lake or another, Dean may remember differently from Sam. He’d need to do some research on that, take time to think back carefully, figure it out.

“I just dunno!” he blows out a frustrated sigh and rubs at his jeans clad thighs.

“Ok, ok,” Kappi’s voice is soothing. “Sam, for the first time, this was really successful! Believe me, we got a lot from this. I would suggest that you take Dean home, mull this over and try to remember what he may mean. If nothing occurs to you, we’ll try again in about three or four days.”

“Three or four _days_?” Sam perks up in alarm “Why not tomorrow? I can be back tomorrow!”

“Sam, baby, I’ll need 3 or 4 days to recover from this session. I am really sorry.” She says tiredly and pats his hand.

Sam looks at her closely for the first time since the session began and notices how pale she is. A fine sheen of sweat covers her forehead and her hands are slightly shaking.

“Oh, Kappi, I am so sorry! I didn’t realize….” Sam jumps out of his chair. “Of course, we’ll get out of your hair. Is there anything I can do for you?” He starts to put Dean’s boots back on.

“No, I’m fine, no worries!” she chuckles at his concern. “I just need to rest and eat something. Done this plenty of times.”

“You SURE?” Sam insists, feeling horrible for his ignorance and selfishness.

“Yes, I’m sure.” she repeats. “You can do me a favor, though. Stay really close to Dean over the next few days. He is so close to the surface, you want to constantly feed that, ok? Keep him engaged.”

 _GOD, how much closer can I get without wrapping myself around him like an octopus???_ Sam wonders. And then slightly panicky. _And why the fuck do I remember Dean kissing me?!?_

“Hold on, I have something else that might help with the connection,” she gets up from the couch a little unsteadily and walks slowly over to a shelf covered in small bottles and jars. When she comes back to Sam, she holds out a small blue pot with a black screw cap.

“Here, use this twice a day on Dean. it’s an herbal ointment I make myself and use on all of my trauma patients. It helps to stimulate their sensory perception and self-awareness,” Kappi goes on explaining exactly how to apply the cream.

Sam follows all of her instructions with detailed attention, but he also suddenly feels the urgent need to be alone with his thoughts and figure this out, before he freaks out right here and now.

Thankfully, Kappi has no objections to that at all and after a tight hug and a heartfelt big _thank you_ , Sam bids her goodbye and returns with Dean to the Impala.

The ride back to Cicero starts in dead silence. Sam hasn’t even turned the radio on, just retreats into his head and starts to systematically take apart the information he has gained over the last couple of hours.

_Dean is safe and happy._

_At some lake in the mountains he thinks Sam would remember because something ended well there._

_A Kiss??? FUCK. That can’t be right. Whose brain had that come from?_

_Dean wants Sam to find him. Wants to have him in his future._

_Doesn’t want to come towards Sam, though._

_Back is DOWN?! Strange…down…down?_

_Dean can feel Sam close. But he worries about Sam’s delay?_

_Someone promised to Dean that Sam would be there with him. On his side?_

_JESUS, FUCK, that is a lot to sort through and absorb._ His thoughts are jittery, flitting about like a humming bird, so he can't really clamp down on one at a time.

The image of Dean leaning down to kiss him, has Sam most disturbed of all. He can’t remember them EVER sharing a kiss…jokingly or otherwise. And there is no memory in his mind that Dean ever made any advances on him…. The thought is so absurd to Sam that he snorts out loud.

 _“Yeah, right! Mr.-Cock-in-the-hen-house , I-can-get-any-girl-in-bed-with-a-wink Winchester pining after his own little brother! That’ll be the day hell literally freezes over!”_ he chuckles to himself.

Of course, they’d always been exceptionally close growing up, often out of pure necessity to stay warm or keep each other – well, really, Dean keeping Sam – safe. But in Sam’s mind, this had never been anything but brotherly. Was there even the most remote chance in the universe that Dean had seen that differently?

Of course, he would have never uttered a word, not a syllable of it to anyone, if that were true.

 _‘So, IF it is…IF Dean felt differently about me…on that level…or at least had in the past…how would I feel about that?’_ Sam wonders to himself and is surprised to find that it doesn’t immediately disgust him or really even bother him, but …. ‘ _Jesus, aren’t our lives fucked up enough??? Do I even need to go there? Do I want to??’_

He has no clear answer at the moment. This possibility completely throws his worldview out of order and he feels like he is floating on some strange out-of-body experience, that is nevertheless not without intrigue. 

_GOD, what was happening to him???_

 

***********************************

_Sam?? Sammy??_

_Come on, man, what the hell? Don’t do this to me?_

_Are we playing games now? Not in the mood, dude!_

_Where’d you go?_

_I know you are close…AH, there you are!_

 

*************************************

Sam drives completely on auto-pilot deep in thought, not paying much attention to the road or Dean sitting next to him, so he completely misses the fact that Dean’s hand has made steady, groping progress across the space between them on the bench seat. So, when Dean’s hand closes on Sam’s knee it startles the younger brother so violently that he jerks the steering wheel to the side and stomps on the breaks without conscious thought.

Immediately the heavy Impala starts to fishtail viciously and it is all Sam can do not to crash them into the guardrail but, instead, pull off to the soft shoulder beyond. All the while his right arm is stretched out across Dean’s chest pushing him back into the seat with all his strength to prevent him from being slung around the inside of the car and hurting himself.

“Holy fucking shit, Dean!” Sam shouts when the car finally stops and settles onto her wheels. “What’d you do that for? Are you trying to _kill_ us? Is _that_ how you get me to be where you are?” He is breathing hard and his shoulder is screaming from the strain he has put it under holding his brother’s heavy body in place.

Dean’s face is as impassive as always, aside from tiny hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth 

“Really, dude. There are easier ways. And quite frankly, I am not ready to go just yet.” Sam is mostly pissed with himself for being so inattentive, but it feels good to vent his frustration for once and he is pretty sure, Dean won’t mind. “Also, Dean, you are _not dead_ , ok??? What do I have to do to get this through your granite boulder of a head, for fuck’s sake?”

He slowly lowers his right arm with a grunt of discomfort and looks down at his hurting knee, thinking he might have bumped it in the process of stopping the car. Dean’s hand is still clamped there with bruising strength, every knuckle white, and Sam huffs in surprise at the sight.

He slowly wraps his own hand around Dean’s and tries gently to pry his brother’s fingers loose, but Dean hangs on like a bear trap.

“Uhm, dude, you really can let go now, ok?” Sam’s voice is calm now and imploring. “At least loosen your grip a little? I still need my knee in the future… Dean, it’s ok! I get it…I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t wanna shut you out.”

Kappi had said to keep him close and engaged….and as soon as they were in the car, Sam had shut up and clamped down and withdrawn….served him right that Dean was now giving him a nice set of marks to remember his promise by.

At the same time he is thrilled that Dean is suddenly showing self-initiative in seeking him out, it also frightens him a little that what Dean is looking for, he might not be able to provide.

_He HAS to figure out what lake Dean is waiting at in his mind, what happened there, what could have_

_resulted in this…kiss. And why does Dean want him there._

Sam is finally able to peel Dean’s fingers off his knee and rub some feeling back into the stinging muscle.

“Alright, man, I’ll talk your ear off on the way back, ok? Just keep your hands to yourself?” he teases and then eases the Impala back on the road to Lisa’s house and keeps his promise all the way back.


	7. Revelations

Later that night, Sam is lying in bed on his back, shoulder to shoulder with Dean, who he’d kept close for the rest of the day, just as Kappi asked him to.

Lisa had been overjoyed to hear about their successful session, which Sam described in detail to her, only omitting his own vision and resulting worries, and she’d been nothing but supportive of keeping the two brothers as close to each other as Sam seemed to think necessary.

But after fruitlessly wracking his brain for hours over possible meanings of Dean’s thoughts and Lisa’s willing but failed attempts to help him do so, the initial euphoria about the day’s events is slowly draining away. He had even scoured his Dad’s journal for possible clues, looking at every summer he could find, only to come to the renewed realization that they had spent far too many of them alone, while Dad had been off hunting any number of god-forsaken creatures or illusive leads on YED. Still he clings to the sliver of hope that the visit with Kappi brought him.

_He can figure this out. He knows it! Done it plenty of times….solve puzzles...he’s good at this!_

Sam stares up at the ceiling, enjoying the momentary stillness and quiet around him. The hustle and bustle of the daily activities is melting away into the peaceful atmosphere of late evening. He concentrates on Dean’s deep regular breathing by his side, lets it ease him into a relaxed state of mind.                  

 _He needs to clear his mind and look at this information again from a fresh angle,_ he realizes. _As if it was a case they were working._

_OK – how does the info he has fit into what he knows:_

_Why wouldn’t Dean want to come to him? He’d done nothing but come and run to Sam’s aid all his life. What was different now?_

_He thinks that there is pain and loss, if he goes TO Sam. OK, so he doesn’t want to go back…down…where he knew Sam was in pain? No, that doesn’t seem right. He is trying to protect himself from pain and loss, yes, that’s why he shut down in the first place._

_THAT means, Dean thinks Sam is gone – dead most likely._

_So why would he be waiting somewhere for Sam to show up and find him?_

_Where would Sam go after jumping into Hell? Stay in hell? That’s kinda what Sam had been figuring, why he’d been so afraid of it._

_But Dean wouldn’t believe that….Dean would think Sam had gone to HEAVEN…., of course! Dean would have expected Sam to be rewarded for his service, his bravery._

_Oh, Jesus, that’s IT! Dean thinks Sam’s gone from the world and scheduled to show up in Heaven…and Dean is waiting THERE for Sam…._

_Holy Shit, Dean….gave up, shut himself off and….thinks HE is dead, too! In Heaven….waiting for his little brother….! But…why?_

_The promise, of course! Holy Fuck, how dense he had been,_ Sam realizes as the truth unravels quickly now in his mind.

_On their visit to Heaven, they’d been given the impression that their afterlife would be a shared one…things like soulmates and rare occasions had been mentioned._

_Dean must have clung tighter to that, than Sam knew…._

_And now Dean is sitting in his perceived Heaven, pissed with the angels and God – or whoever – for not coming through….again….with a promise he’d been given._

_And he is worried that Sam is held up or delayed in Hell….and that’s why he isn’t there yet._

Sam blows out a sharp sigh through his nose and whispers in the dark.

“You stupid, stubborn jerk! Only _you_ could come up with some convoluted abstract concept like this and _stick_ to it!”

_OK – at least this made a lot of sense now…in a Dean-sort of way…and he could work with that._

_What else?_

_So Dean won’t come down – even that word makes sense now – to look for him, because he is scared they’ll miss each other in Heaven somehow._

Sam admits ruefully to himself that he probably caused some of that himself, considering that they had a few different views of Heaven on their first “tour” of it! 

_Fine, Dean is waiting for him at some Lake….what fucking Lake?!?!_

_Somewhere they’d been happy? Well, Dean loved being around water and lakes anyways, so he’d been happy any time they took a break at one or were left near one for awhile. That’s not going to help narrow things down._

_Sam was less of a “water rat” and really only stopped minding Dad leaving them alone so much when he’d hit his teens….SO….a longer time by a lake after he was about eleven or twelve, maybe?_

Sam sorted through the possibilities.

_Manitou Park Lake in Colorado? Couldn't be…they’d been there almost three weeks, but it was November and they had been unexpectedly snowed in and ran out of food and the well behind the trailer had frozen….NOT a happy memory._

_Cross Lake by Shreveport, Louisiana? That’d been a nice summer - hot as fucking Hell, but peaceful….no mountains though. Guess not._

_Owasco Lake in Upstate New York? Well, Sam had liked it fine, but Dean had been in a foul mood almost the entire four weeks they’d been there. Dad left them there, because Dean had busted his shoulder being slung across the room by the poltergeist the two had been hunting. Just like that, Dean had been deemed useless and they were left behind. Not something seventeen-year-old Dean had taken lightly. So that hadn’t exactly resulted in brotherly bliss either._

_Lake Junaluska in Nort Carolina? That was a late summer or early fall, at least six weeks alone. Dean had been, what eighteen and he fifteen. Yeah, Dean had been teaching him to drive and… But NO, there had been that water spirit, they came across by accident and Sam had nearly drowned as a result of it….Dean had to fish him out and even do CPR on him. He was pretty sure Dean had been scared shitless about the whole thing and Dad had given him one of his longest lectures about responsibility and all that in living memory…when he finally found out._

Sam’s eyes are drooping and he feels himself drifting off….images swimming in and out of his mind…of the different places, different lakes, different people….Dean at thirteen; Dean at fifteen; Dean at seventeen; Dean at eighteen….face growing more distinctly beautiful all the while…getting closer…getting…

Sam sits bolt upright in bed.

_WAIT, that’s it, isn’t it??_

His heart rate exhilarates in excitement at the realization. He blinks in confusion for a moment, noticing the early morning light outside.

_Shit, he’d slept all night…._

He is quickly focusing his mind, catching the sleep fuzzy images and comprehension, before they can sink back into his subconscious. 

_Lake Junaluska, of course! They had been happy there! They’d found a little cabin just off the South Shore of the Lake, which wasn’t occupied this late in the season but fully connected with water and electricity. It and most of the real estate around the lake was owned and run by this Methodist Church Group and only the maintenance staff ever came to check on their particular area of the compound as most activity concentrated around the hotel and conference center on the North Shore. Sam and Dean had quickly scoped out the regular camp schedule and all advantages this set up offered them. They’d fished from the church-owned pier, snuck use of the camp-owned canoes, ‘borrowed’ mountain bikes and other useful equipment and showed up to church-run barbeques without ever being questioned. Sam had been so proud that Dean would finally teach him properly how to drive and they’d hike deep into the local mountains to do target practice or hunt small game to their hearts’ content or lay low for a couple of days, when cabin inspection was scheduled._

_It had been glorious._

Putting himself as deep into Dean’s mind as he can muster, it strikes Sam powerfully now how his brother must have seen their time together there.

Dean had pretty much turned Sam into a man that fall. He’d taught his little brother how to handle the Impala properly. They’d taken down some pretty impressive game. If Dean could have set Sam up with one of the church camp girls, he would have, but Sam had vehemently worked against that particular item on Dean’s checklist.

They’d even done their first ever solo Hunt together – okay, they’d stumbled over it unintentionally, but they’d done the research, figured it out, hunted it down, set the traps and took care of it.

_And, yes, Sam had almost drowned in the process, but it had **ended well** …Dean had saved him and….dragged him from the lake and….NOT kissed him…but given him mouth- to-mouth resuscitation! _

Sam grins like a fool and shifts on the bed, so he can look down at Dean’s sleeping face.

“Sorry, it took so long, man”, he whispers, laying a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly “but I figured it out now. Lake Junaluska. You are at Lake Junaluska, right

No response. But Sam is too excited and elated to care at this particular moment.

_He can work with that! Figure out how to tickle Dean out of that memory back to reality. Needs to show him that it’s safe and pain-free to come back to him._

He jumps out of bed and takes a quick shower, dressing afterwards in track pants, one of Dean’s old Led Zeppelin t-shirts and his running shoes, before he settles back on the bed next to Dean, with the little pot of Kappi’s ointment in his hand.

“OK, man! Let’s do this…” he chuckles as he guides Dean to sit up slightly, takes his shirt off and settles him back leaning against the headboard “Another first for you, I bet…using homeopathic cream for anything? Guess, you’ll just have to make me stop, if you don’t like it…”

He opens the jar and is greeted with the same enticing smell of fresh cut herbs and flowers he noticed the day before from the flowerbeds in front of Kappi’s house. Drawing in a deep appreciative breath, he dips his fingers in and starts applying it the way Kappi told him, light strokes over Dean’s forehead and temples and around his ears and along his jaw, repeating the path over and over again.

His head starts to feel a little muddled from the strong scent of the cream and his thoughts drift lazily across time - back to Lake Junaluska and their summer there.

He dips his fingers again and now spreads the fragrant mix from the soft spot behind Dean’s ear in small circles down the sides of his neck to his collar bones, he repeats that path a few times and feathers out over Dean’s shoulders and chest, like in a trance, floating on his thoughts of happier times and the amazing feeling of Deans skin and muscles under his finger tips and…..


	8. Choices

_Damn, now that feels good…reminds him of something...what?_

_T_ _ickles across his face like feather-light touches; warmth against his cheek, his neck; hhhm; small scrapes over his scalp; so good; gentle friction over the edge of his ear; he always loved that; faint tracing strokes across his brow, his cheek bones; soothing; soft nails along his jaw, down his neck across his chest; daaamn; soft pillowy pressure on his mouth; yesss – a lovers touch….caring, wanting, enticing…._

_He remembers….many….all kinds…_

_But this…feels….different….new….but familiar, too?! That mouth….and scent?_

_Wait – I can hear him….Sam? Sammy’s here!_

_Hold on – what?_

_It all suddenly stops._

_OH, NO, you don’t! We just got started. WAIT!_

_And he starts to move, slowly, struggling, like walking through sucking mud ….pushing on, harder, determined to get to the bottom of this. Not letting Sam leave….again._  

********************

“FUCK!” Sam straightens up in horror. “What am I doing?”

He jumps up, shakes his head to clear the fog and paces the room, his breath coming fast, panicked. He is deliberately not looking down at the still form of his brother, sitting comfortably on the bed with early morning sunlight dappling his peaceful face and setting his pale skin alight.

“God, Jesus….FUCK! What’s wrong with me!” Sam’s heart hammers in his chest like he just finished a marathon.

_Why was he KISSING his BROTHER?! Holy Hell, It's all kinds of deadly sin wrong. Not to mention, his brother isn’t aware…. In fact, Dean would probably KILL him, if he’d ever find out about this._

He stops mid pace and rakes his hands through his overlong hair.

_OK, must’ve been the scent of the ointment, that’s it! Together with the false memory of the kiss? And being cooped up here for so long, taking care of Dean, touching Dean more than he’d ever done, really looking at Dean in like what felt in many ways for the first time. No snide comments or jokes about his emo crap, all the time in the world to really, truly appreciate every detail of his brother’s body. And now Kappi practically ordering him to keep Dean even closer._

“Holy fucking SHIT!” he swears out loud again and resums his pacing.

_That was it, wasn’t it? Too much time. Too close. No discouragement. He’d always loved his brother, of course, like a brother. Always looked up to him, admired him, wanted to BE like him…..had this turned into something else now? NO! But why had the kiss felt so….good…so right?_

If he was brutally honest with himself, he’d always thought, Dean was kinda beautiful, almost ethereal in many ways. He’d snuck glances over the years, of course, noticed every subtle change in Dean over the course of their lives together. But it had never been….more…never been sexual…had it?

_NO, it hadn’t…couldn’t have. He wasn’t gay and neither was Dean. Clearly not._

Sure, Dean had made many jokes and comments, alluding to knowledge of the “other side”, but Sam had dismissed that completely as “typical Dean” trying to wind him up, trying to embarrass Sam about his lack of experience at the time and generally being the annoying big brother that he was.

And sure, Sam had experimented a little, in college, before Jess. But none of that had stuck, made a real impact on his life or preference or turned him off the appreciation for women. _He definitely enjoyed the hell out of his time with Lisa the other night._

_So, what the fucking fuck was going on with him now?_

His panic starts to rise again, heady, making him dizzy, his thoughts swirling like the content of a washing machine on spin cycle.

 _Had something changed?_ _Other than Dean being completely incapable of telling him off, turning him down defending himself from his brother’s attentions, of course – oh GOD, he was molesting his big brother without knowledge or consent…._

Shame floods him, hot and powerful and his stomach clenches in disgust at himself.

_He has to get out, leave for a while at least, see something else, do something else than sit and stare at Dean…..and….notice the way the early light made his long lashes throw a dark shadow on his cheeks. See the freckles dusted over his pale skin stand out stark and golden. Follow the curve of his full lips still glistening from the kiss, he’d planted on them. Admire the elegant line of his neck flowing down into strong shoulders and onto a broad chest and…._

_SHIT, SHIT, SHIT….he was doing it again…staring…and…._

He suddenly feels his cock give a definite twitch of interest and….he…. _runs_.

Wrenching the door to their room open, he painfully collides with Lisa in the doorway. 

“Oooff”, she lets out as she is pushed sideways into the wall by Sam’s passing. “SAM?! What’s wrong???” she exclaims, immediately apprehensive, seeing him running down the stairs taking three steps at a time.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t directly look at her, but she catches a glimpse of his alarmingly red face and wide wild eyes.

“NOTHING…I gotta….I’m…going for a run!” he calls back and already swinging open the front door, hurling himself through it almost at a full sprint.

“Uuhm, yeah, I can see that!” Lisa grumbles to no one, puzzling at his “road runner” exit, rubbing her shoulder, where she had bumped into the wall.

She shakes her head and turns to see Dean, still in bed , but awake, looking undisturbed….as ever, a little smile curving one corner of his mouth. She sighs again and walks to his bedside.

“Thanks, Sam….you could’ve at least gotten him ready for me”, she swings back the covers and….pauses….at the sight of Dean’s obvious and impressive morning wood. 

Lisa feels color rise hot into her cheeks and then scoffs at herself for her silliness.

The doctors said that he was healthy and “fully functional”. Well, Hell, she is surprised at herself that this bodily “function” didn’t even enter her mind.

After all, this is _Dean_ they are looking after. Mr. “ _Hey Baby, how you doin’” – Best night of her life –_ Winchester _!_

She looks back down at Dean, her eyes automatically straying to his hard cock, clearly outlined against his soft sweats.

 _Jesus, she misses him….sex with him…them?!_ Her skin tingles at the powerful images that rise unbidden in her mind. Shaking her head quickly she snaps her brain back to the matter at hand. ( _The one she’d much rather have IN hand!)_

 _Why now?_ she wonders. Dean hadn’t reacted to anything with this much “enthusiasm” since he got here. 

Sure, Sam is normally the one taking care of the morning routine: the waking up, showering or washing , getting Dean into fresh clothes and ready for the day, before he moves him downstairs for breakfast.

He’s never mentioned anything to her. And she thinks they’ve grown close enough for him to have done so.

So, what is different today? And _why_ had Sam _run_? That puzzles her the most. As close as they’d been living together all these years, it could hardly have been the first time Sam was confronted with Dean’s erection.

She stares at the corner of the blanket still in her hand and then slowly looks back at the door, deep in thought.

_Had Sam even noticed it? Dean had still been covered when she came in. Soooo….then what….? Was Dean REACTING to something specific?_

“To Sam?”, she whispers as her eyes go wide.

 

*****************************

Sam’s pace is as frantic as his thoughts as he sprints down the road in front of Lisa’s house and takes a shortcut through several yards into the large forested park two streets over.

_“What am I gonna do? Fuck! How the hell can I fix this? Should I leave? I should leave. What do I tell Lisa? Wait, what am I thinking? I can’t leave! Leave him alone? Won’t be alone, though! Lisa’s here. And I want him to be with Lisa. Don’t I? Yes, of course, I do. But Dean is waiting for me to find him. I can’t leave! But how can I stay? Holy Hell!”_

Slowly the regular rhythm of his feet hitting the ground has the desired effect and lets him relax into a steady, longer stride and more sustainable pace. Then he feels his mind slowly uncoil from the knots and chaos it’s been thrown into and a calmer clarity returns.

He’s always loved running to help him think and evaluate problems. Partially, he realized early on, because that was a surefire way to be alone when he was growing up as neither Dean nor Dad had enjoyed it or did it with any regularity. Sam on the other hand thrived under the physical and mental challenge of long distance running and had made use of it as often as possible.

Just as always, once he was aware again, he first concentrated on blocking everything else out and establishing a solid stride and breathing pattern until he felt ready to look at his “problem” more calmly and from all angles.

_OK, so, I can do this. Figure this out. Have to!_

Sam tries to keep his thought process as analytical and emotionless as possible.

_He kissed Dean this morning – well, it’s done, can’t take it back._

_But what had he thought to accomplish with his action? Well, a reaction, of course, that was easy._

_But also….closeness for himself,_ he realizes with a guilty jolt.

He _misses_ Dean with every fiber of his being. And even Lisa’s companionship and the amazing sex they’d shared didn't change anything about that fact. As physically close as he has been to Dean in the past 3 weeks out of pure necessity of taking care of his brother, he hasn’t been so far removed from him emotionally since Dean’s stint in Hell.

Sam feels completely cut off, deprived of their normal interaction, conversations, fights, bickering, everything that is part of their regular day-to-day life. And his valiant efforts at creating familiar circumstances and trying to keep a dialogue running for Dean’s benefit have just outlined the gaping, ragged hole in his life and heart all the more.

Of course, it hadn’t always been smooth sailing for them – far from it. In fact, it had been fucking hard and taken them long enough to get back to common ground after the whole demon blood debacle, but they’d eventually found a new respect and solid connection again, rebuilt a tenuous trust. Moved on.

And the past year had done nothing if not glue them stronger together, united against the whole fucking leagues of Heaven _and_ Hell.

Dean had always been his rock, his solid ground, his true north. The one thing he could count on, predict and seek refuge with. The one person he could look up to and aspire to be better for. All of his life. 

But all that had been torn away – again - at Stull Cemetery.

And now, as a result of his renewed loss and with a mind not dulled and altered by the influence of the demon blood, Sam’s understanding of how much Dean has always done for him, meant to him, been there for him; without question or complaint; without asking anything in return; is as sharp as the well-honed edge of the demon knife. 

And he is also well aware of how intensely grateful for and equally lost without his brother he truly is.

Now their roles are suddenly reversed. Sam’s the caregiver, the protector and Dean needs him in ways that Sam isn’t certain how to deal with other than to hold on tight, keep his brother close – physically and emotionally.

Always the more tactile of the two, Sam’s first instinct is physical closeness to keep their bond strong and alive. He acknowledges that openly, had been confirmed by the visit to Kappi, but it now startles him that this seemed to have grown into….more…that he _wants_ more.

_How FUCKED up was that?! JESUS, how was this even possible? He had to snap out of this, if he’d want any future place in Dean’s life. He couldn’t put this shit on Dean’s doorstep. After all he’d been through, all he’d done for Sam. He’d need to find a way to deal with this – get over it – not let it take root or whatever…ignore it, bury it….the Winchester way._

His pace slows gradually to a walk as he comes to his favorite spot deep in the park’s landscape, a small pond with a fishing pier sticking out into its center. He realizes with a start that it is _his_ favorite spot because it would be Dean’s favorite, if he’d been here.

His chest is heaving in great gasps and he is trembling from both the exertion and the suppressed emotions of the past hour. After he cools down a bit and stretches his tight muscles, he slumps down on the pier, letting his legs dangle over the edge and stares out onto the calm water of the pond, following a couple of ducks on their seemingly aimless path with his eyes and letting the serenity of this place seep slowly into him.

As his mind calms further, he is starting to formulate a plan. 

 

When Sam steps quietly through the door into Lisa’s house about an hour later, he feels calmer and resolved to the right course of action.

 _They’ll bring Dean back with Kappi’s help and then Lisa can take over and Sam will step back and out for awhile to create a much-needed distance._ _That’s the only way. Dean and Lisa will reconnect, be happy. And Sam will find a way to get out of his current, strange, new mindset. And then…maybe then he will have a chance to fit back into Dean’s life…as a brother._

“Sam?” Lisa’s voice sounds tight with anxiety. “Sam, is that you?”

“Lis?” Sam calls back instantly apprehensive about possible bad news. “What’s wrong? Where are you? 

“In the kitchen. Can you come in here?” Her voice is….off….somehow!

Sam is in full-on panic mode now. Something is seriously wrong, he can hear it in her voice, practically feel it in the air. His pulse thunders in his ears and he considers irrationally for a second that maybe he should go get a weapon to take out whatever threat as he all but runs through the living and dining room into the kitchen and ….freezes in the doorway.

 

 _Dean_ is standing by the sink, leaning back against the counter with a glass of water in his hand and his eyes – bright green and ALIVE – lock into place on Sam’s. 

Sam can feel all the blood rush out of his head to his feet and literally senses his heart skip a beat or two and his breath stop for a moment, while his is grabbing at the door frame for support. Speechless. Mindless. Convinced he’s gonna faint.

Everything else disappears around them, the house, Lisa, the whole fucking world. His vision tunnels and there is _nothing_ but Dean, haloed in light from the window behind him; eyes clear and green as emeralds, _boring_ intently into Sam’s, then slightly narrowing. His head cocks minutely to one side; smile slowly spreading over his face like the rising sun, crinkling the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth as he sets down the glass without breaking eye contact with Sam.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean’s voice is raw, cracked and hoarse, like he’s just crossed a desert without water.

And that’s all it takes to break Sam’s trance. He is flying at his brother, all concerns of the past hours evaporating into thin air, all thoughts of what comes next floating away as if on a stiff breeze, while he is enfolding Dean in his arms and clutching him so tight, he can hear Dean’s ribs creak.

But the older Winchester isn’t complaining, not saying a word, doesn’t want to break the magic of this moment, the joy of having his Sammy back. _Finally, waited so fucking long, been so worried, couldn’t understand…all ok now…back – Sammy back with him!_ And he clings onto Sam just as tight, one arm around his back the other across his shoulders, one hand sliding into the hair at the nape of Sam’s neck and squeezing hard, wanting to _feel_ the heat coming off Sam’s skin, _smell_ Sammy’s familiar scent, _look_ his fill of his brother’s expressions (bitch face included), _taste….wait…no, not taste…._ just _be_ there. _Make sure Sam is really here, alive…not in Heaven or Hell._

“Oh GOD, Dean!” Sam’s voice is muffled against the crook of Dean’s neck. “I…I can’t…believe it! Jesus, it’s _so fucking_ good to see you!” He tries to swallow past the huge lump in his throat. “Missed you, man!”

Dean just flexes his hand at Sam’s neck and pats him hard on the back with the other, too overcome with his own emotions to speak, not willing to let go yet, _afraid Sammy might evaporate or something_.

Sam feels the same way, but is also aware that Lisa is there as audience to their little show. After a final squeeze and thump on Dean’s upper back, he draws back and takes Dean by the shoulders instead.

“Are you ok? How do you feel? Do you need anything?” Sam’s hands start to run over Dean’s face, neck, shoulders and sides on instinct and out of routine, looking for injuries and sore spots.

Dean finally catches his hands and stills them and shakes his head a little.

“M’ ok.” he croaks “Don’t be a girl ‘bout it, ‘k? Lis’ job.” but his words are softened by the huge goofy grin on his face and the squeeze of his hand on Sam’s.

Sam barks out a laugh, trying with all his might not to break down in sobs of joy and relief, and he straightens up.

“OK, yeah, sorry! No chick flick moments. Got it!” he rubs quickly at his pricking eyes and then looks at Lisa, who stands staring at the two of them with huge liquid brown eyes and an unbelieving expression on her face. But Sam can also see something else behind the tears glistening in her eyes – Weariness? Sadness? He isn’t completely sure.

Sam steps over to Lisa and hugs her, too. And she clings to him, like her life depends on it, while a sob bubbles up from her chest and is quickly stifled against Sam’s chest. He is a little surprised by her strong reaction, but thinks it must be the enormous relief at Dean’s recovery and the overwhelming stress of the past weeks that have taken their toll now. He tries to comfort her and rubs soothing long strokes from her head down her back.

“Hey, it’s ok, Lis, we got him back! You called it the whole time, remember. And you were right. It’ll be fine now. Shh…”

He looks over Lisa’s head at Dean and their eyes catch again. Dean’s slightly narrow and he lifts his chin a fraction in question “What’s up?” ( _GOD, how Sam had missed these minute gestures and ciphers in Dean’s face; more familiar to him than his own expressions!! They could have long “conversations” like this without ever speaking a word.)_ Sam gives a small shake of the head, a quirk of the eyebrows and a sad little smile. “Nothing, just…tough…you know?” Dean nods once and his eyes warm on Sam’s and his mouth pulls up a bit at the corner. “I get it. Take your time.” Slow blink from Sam, “Thanks.”

Lisa pushes back from Sam then and rubs at her eyes. “Sorry! I know it’s stupid. But I wasn’t sure that you’d be back….I mean…not sure what _time_ you’d be back after you ran off and….” She trails off.

 _Dammit!_ Sam didn’t miss the slip up, but makes the quick decision to ignore it for the moment, when he sees Dean’s head snap up sharply and his face grays and tightens in alarm at the words. His eyes seek Sam’s again, wide with disquiet.

“You’re leaving?” he rasps out and Sam can read a building panic in his brother’s body language and sees a fine sheen of sweat break out on his forehead.

Sam carefully schools his face into a mocking expression. “Leaving? Why would I be leaving? Think I’m tired of your ass?” He manages an almost convincing laugh. “Sorry to disappoint, but you’re not getting rid of me, just because you woke up.”

 _Not yet, at least…_ he completes the sentence in his head, but keeps the smile plastered on his face.

He can tell that Dean is not completely convinced by his charade, but also that he is not gonna argue the point now. _We’re not done with this conversation,_ his tight expression seems to say.

Sam looks at Lisa instead, worried he’ll give too much away under Dean’s scrutiny.

“Now, tell me, what _happened_ while I was gone – for a run?” he adds quickly. “I mean, Dean, you were still totally under when I left.”

Dean walks over to the kitchen table and sits down heavily, surprised at how tired he is from the little bit of activity he has been through this morning. _Fucking exhausted, really. Shouldn’t he be rested like never before in his life…considering all the sleep he’d apparently been getting._

He is also trying to buy himself a little bit of time, before answering Sam. _How to answer Sam?_

Still struggling with the disorientation of being back, _NOT DEAD, NOT IN HEAVEN_ , waking up and finding Lisa standing over him, _NOT SAM_. _Hadn’t he just heard Sam, felt Sam? Where was Sam? Had he been dreaming? Couldn’t clearly remember. Must’ve been some dream, getting him rock hard like that._

He felt tricked somehow for the first couple of minutes of full awareness. _He’d been so sure to find Sam there, when he had, at last, worked up the courage to go down._

Lisa had been ecstatic, kind, infinitely patient and loving with him, letting him slowly decide what to do, to get up, get dressed, go down stairs. Explaining all the while why he was at her house and assuring him that he was safe and Sam had brought him there. That Sam would be back very soon. That had finally settled his unease a little and halted his urge to dive back under. _He wasn’t sure what to make of it all, how to fit back in here._  

Sam and Lisa join him quickly at the table, Sam refilling and bringing Dean’s water glass with him.

When Dean doesn’t talk right away, Lisa looks at Sam with a shy unsure smile that confuses him even more. _When had she reverted to reserved hostess – odd – they’d been just fine yesterday._

“It was really kind of anti-climactic” she says “After you left in kind of a hurry, I guess, I went in to get Dean ready for the day. And….and…he was…he just sat up and _looked_ at me. You know, really _saw_ me. Not like…before. 

Sam nods quickly, not wanting or needing a reminder of his brother’s dead eyes and empty expression, and he glances over at Dean, who is looking down at the water glass and turning it between his hands on the table. Just before a shudder can race down Sam’s spine at the eerie look on Dean’s face the older Winchester blinks up at him slowly, but not saying anything.

“And that was pretty much it!” Lisa smiles more fully now. “I gave him time to adjust and we took it kinda slow, but he got ready on his own and came down and we had breakfast like always, and we….we…talked a little,” her voice wobbles at the last part.

Dean takes her hand in his and squeezes it gently. “S’ok! Just hurts to talk too much.” He takes a sip of water. “Need some time.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you need,” Sam agrees quickly and has to make himself stop staring at Dean’s face and stomp down the enormous bubble of overwhelming joy that wants to pop out of him with the urge to put on a very un-Winchester-like display of laughing and crying and possibly even dancing the jig.

“Just…catch me up. What’s going on?” Dean asks in a rough whisper, just wanting to sit there and look at the two of them for awhile. And while Lisa talks of Ben, who’d left yesterday for summer camp, and her Mom, who is about to move from her house to an appartment, and her work and Sam talks about other Hunters and cases and the general quiet on the supernatural front, but carefully avoids any mention of Cas or Bobby, Dean drinks it all in and looks his fill of them and tries to wrap his head around the new situation.

Lisa’s delicate face with its expressive dark coffee colored eyes, strong nose, full mouth, framed by beautiful long black hair, conjures up memories from an incredible weekend long ago and some briefer visit a shorter while back. He loved her in his own, imperfect way, loved the idea of them together, Ben included, the opportunity of a sane and quiet and normal life made possible by this strong, supportive woman. He’d promise Sam to make a go of it. _Now he was here….but….was it still the same?_

Then there is Sam, little brother, over-grown Sasquatch of a partner, war buddy, best friend, and confidant – really _everything_ in his life. Sammy with his huge paws, and deep dimples, expressive brows, slanted eyes of ever changing color, Pinocchio-pointy nose, stupid floppy hair, strong chin and infectious smile. A face he knows better than his own, a face he had seen change from baby to man over the years, a face he can read any infinitesimal emotion on, a face he can't imagine living without. _His_ Sammy.

These _two people had taken care of him for the past three weeks, like he was a combat invalid coming home from a war broken and useless. They had fulfilled every need, taken on every burden, tried to make him feel comfortable and loved, while he was hiding like a coward in a corner of his mind and hallucinating about his perfect Heaven and a future there with Sam….nice going! He had given up and taken the easy road out! How could they not be tired of him by now? Or mad at him or disappointed? What would change now that he was back? Had it been the right thing to come back?_

Dean feels himself slide down a slippery slope into darkness once more and quickly pulls back from these thoughts, scared of what is lurking in the cracks and crevices. 

Instead he concentrates hard on the two loved people in front of him and he feels himself settle more firmly into the now.

_This is good! He would figure it out. THEY would make something work. Just like always. He isn’t going to chicken back out. It’ll just take time…..and….what?_

“Hey, Dean?” Sam was saying just now, calling his attention back to the conversation and Dean raises an eyebrow at him in question, but didn’t make use of his unpracticed voice. “Uh, normally, I would take you out for a ride in the Impala right about now. Whaddya say? Are you up for it?”

Sam is delighted to see Dean’s eyes light up at the mention of his Baby. “Yeah? Ok, great. Gimme ten minutes to grab a shower, ok? Then we’ll hit the road.”

Dean nods with an easy smile and Sam bounds out of the kitchen like an overgrown puppy.

Lisa catches Dean’s eye and they both chuckle.

“Still like an oversized kid, your _little_ brother, ya know?!” she jokes and gets up to clear the rest of the breakfast dishes.

Dean gets up as well and steps up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. “Lis, _thank you.”_ he murmurs into her hair and places a kiss onto her silken dark tresses.

He can feel her stiffen just slightly at the closeness, but not enough to be alarming, so he keeps his arms firmly around her for a moment longer until she relaxes against him and nods.

“You’re very welcome, Dean. I am glad you’re back with us.” She doesn’t turn around in his arms, although, she is dying to kiss him and try to create the closeness she’s been missing so desperately. The friendship and intimacy she had developed with Sam are great and she wouldn’t want to be without them anymore, but she also feels just as strongly about Dean as she ever has and she wants to fight for that bond as well.

Unfortunately her realization a couple of days ago that Sam might be deeper in with Dean than she initially thought and her confusion about this morning’s display from Dean adds a whole other layer of complication to the mix that she is quite sure none of them are ready to deal with.

So she is happy to let the Boys go on their outing and give her a little alone time to try and figure out some of her tangled feelings. 

**********************************

When Sam and Dean step outside and walk to the Impala, Sam automatically drifts towards the shotgun side and throws the keys at Dean, content to go back to _status quo_.

Dean catches them easy enough, but stops in his tracks. “Sammy?”

“Huh?”

“Think y’better….for now.” Dean croaks, throws the keys back at Sam.

“You sure?” Sam asks concern coloring his voice, but he bites back the “are you ok?” knowing full well that Dean wouldn’t appreciate him hovering. Instead he quips. “You don’t wanna check out, if I did right by her first?”

Dean shoots back. “Y’know I’d kick your ass, if you didn’t. So, I trust you.”

Sam’s heart expands almost painfully at the normalcy of this little exchange and he feels himself grinning like a fool as he slides into the now-familiar driver’s seat.

 

**************************************************

Sam and Dean have a good day simply driving around.

Dean grouses for a while about a supposed ticking noise in the engine and Sam argues against it, telling him that he needs to have his ears checked because he’s getting up there in age and all the while they smile like idiot children on the inside, just because they’re _able_ to have such stupid little arguments again.

Sam avoids all the normal stops of his usual route, thinking that Dean shouldn’t have to cope with too many people today. Instead he chooses to make a quick stop at a sandwich shop to grab lunch and another stop at the nearest Gas-N-Sip for beer and ice before driving out of town and finally pulling over for a break at a little lake. He takes two lawn chairs out of the trunk and their green cooler full of beer and they settle in on the lake’s edge and simply enjoying each other’s company in silence while eating their lunch.

After awhile, both keep stealing glances at each other when they think the other isn’t looking.

Sam is simply awed by the fact that he is able to read Dean’s thoughts and mood again by simply looking at his expressive face.

Dean is noting the subtle changes in his brother’s appearance from his thinner frame, sharper angles in his face, longer hair, dark smudges under his eyes and overall air of exhaustion which is only thinly veiled by the current shine of triumphant joy pouring of Sam every time their eyes catch.

Dean’s heart is heavy with a crushing guilt for having caused his brother this much stress and grief over the last few weeks and also for having to….add to that even more now.

“Sammy?” There’s no time but the present to address the elephant in the non-existant room, Dean decides. “What’bout Bobby ‘n Cas?”

Sam flinches slightly at the question and his lips press into a thin line. He is quiet for a long moment just looking out over the lake and Dean waits patiently studying the emotions warring on his brother’s face.

Sam had hoped to leave this particular maelstrom of misery for another day, but, of course, that isn’t work for Dean. He should’ve been prepared for this. Dean deserves the truth, of course, needs the truth, but Sam is also very aware that his brother will assume responsibility for it in some convoluted way and he is terrified that this will drive him away again, make him prefer his peaceful dream state over the harsh reality and the fact that they lost so much.

When he finally turns in his chair to look at Dean with a deep sigh, his eyes are a deep blueish-green mirroring the color of the lake at his back and filled with an infinite sadness.

“They’re….gone, Dean,” he says quietly and chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before he spills everything he knows about Cas and Bobby to his brother in the simplest, most straightforward way he can muster. He is summing up all that happened at Stull, but carefully avoids talking about their own roles there. He explains all he’s tried since to figure out where Cas has gone, if he was still “alive” and how to get him back. And he shares that Rufus had taken care of Bobby’s body and that they need to eventually have a look at Bobby’s estate.

When he falls silent, Sam’s hands are clenched in his lap, slightly trembling, and he doesn’t dare look directly at Dean for fear of what he will find in his eyes. _Disappointment? Disgust? Guilt? Capitulation? Surrender? Or worst of all – Emptiness?_

He feels more than he sees Dean get up out of the chair and walk to the edge of the water. 

A few minutes pass in absolute stillness as if the entire world holds its breathe. Then Dean turns and walks back to Sam.

“C’mere” he pulls Sam up by the arm and then grabs the back of his neck leaning their foreheads together. “You did _good_ , Sammy! Real good, you hear?” Dean’s voice is rough and shaky not just from disuse. “ _No one_ coulda done more, ‘k?” Sam chances a glance up at the elder’s face and sees a couple of fat tears hang on the bottom rim of Dean’s eyes sparkling as they catch the sunlight between them. “We’ll find Cas somehow….later…m’sure!” He says and squeezes the back of Sam’s neck hard. “And…Bobby…” His voice breaks for a moment and the tears hit the dusty ground between their feet. “Bobby…s’gone out fighting…that’s…that’s good, right? What he’d wanted? He’s done so much..for us…always. We…we’ll make that worth something.”

Sam’s heart is breaking at Dean’s struggle to find the right words. No words could ever _be_ right for a man like Bobby Singer, who’d been more of a father and mentor to them than their own dad ever had.

A man who had sheltered them, guided them, scolded them, taught them and took care of them in so many ways they would probably never even fully understand. But they both know that even though Bobby’s loss would leave a Grand-Canyon-sized hole in their hearts and lives for a long time, they also owed it to the old grouch to pull themselves together and go on until the road ran out. There was nothing else _to_ do.

Sam’s eyes overflow as well now and he cautiously slides his arms around Dean and pulls him in close for a moment. Dean wraps Sam in a tight hug as well and they both simply let the grief for their lost family flow out of them freely in the form of silent tears.

After a short while Dean thumps Sam on the back and rumbles against his shoulder. “At least I’ve got you back! Missed you, Bro!” And he breaks the embrace and steps back, looking up at Sam with a watery smile.

“Yeah, ditto!” Sam croaks and wipes his hand down his face quickly to erase the last of the tears, clinging there.

“Let’s go back, ok?” Sam suggests seeing the fatigue spreading clearly over Dean’s face and posture.

“Yeah, ‘k.” Dean’s voice sounds worse than before as he barely grinds out the words. “Hey, thanks, for….this.” Dean gestures around at the lake and their little set up. “’S nice.”

Sam’s dimples pop into view as he smiles and nods, pleased that his careful choice of location for their little picnic had been noticed and appreciated. “Yeah, sure. U’r welcome. 

They pack up and get back into the Impala, all said that needs saying…for now.

 

*******************************************

 

In the evening, when all three of them are back together around the dinner table, the mood is distinctly lighter than in the morning or on the drive home.

Lisa makes meatloaf with all the fixin’s and both men dig in like it’s their last meal and they’re starving, praising her all the while, which makes Lisa smile with pride and contentment at the simplicity of it all.

She had spent the day thinking hard and long about their current circumstances and how, exactly, she felt about it and she had made her peace with simply sitting back and waiting a bit for things to settle and shift into a new order.

There is no sense in her pushing for or expecting something none of them know how to give or make work yet. Either they would find a way to arrange themselves into some new shape of a family here or they would need to find a way to untangle it and make some tough decisions later.

All she knows is that _both_ men mean a lot to her now and she doesn’t see a way or reason to choose between them. Much less would she ask them to choose, because it has become completely clear to her that _they_ shouldn’t be without each other…ever.

So after a companionable meal and some easy banter, mostly between Sam and Lisa as Dean’s voice is clearly shot from just one day’s use, they all decide that it’s time to call it a night and Lisa is not at all surprised that Dean heads straight for his shared bedroom with Sam.

Sam stands at the bottom of the stairs for a moment looking at Lisa in question. “This is kinda awkward, isn’t it?”

She lays her hand on his cheek and smiles warmly. “No, Sam, it isn’t – don’t make it! Dean needs to reconnect with you. Remember he’s been ‘waiting’ for you for a while. It’s ok! Everything will happen in its own time. Just let him make the choices for now.”

Sam leans down and kisses Lisa lightly on the mouth. “God, you are one amazing chick! You know that, right?”

“You bet your tight little ass, I do!” She smirks and smacks said body part.

He huffs a little laugh and takes her chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Listen, I’ll be _just_ down the hall, if you…need… _anything, ok?_ I mean it. _”_

She nods and smiles back at him. “Yeah, I know…thanks, Hon! No go….get some sleep.”

He looks at her a moment longer and knows that the effervescent joy and shared relief and bone-deep exhaustion he finds there are a reflection of his own expressions.

“Night, Lis.” He says quietly and walks up the stairs after his brother.

“Night, Sam.” She whispers as she stares after him for a moment, deeply grateful to have them _both_ back under her roof, safe and sound and full of life.


	9. New Roads

Sam wakes with a start, but lies still as stone, his hand automatically and slowly sliding under his pillow for the obligatory knife or gun. As soon as reality sets in and his lifelong training recedes a little, he realizes that there isn’t any immediate danger to himself or Dean.

_Dean!_

He sits up abruptly and glances over at his brother’s bed. Although, it is too dark to make out details, he notices right away the quiet groan of the bed frame and rustling of sheets caused by Dean’s thrashing body, which must have been the reason he woke. Curiously absent is the presence of any other noise. No distressed moans or grunts or any other noise reaches Sam’s ears, but it is clear that Dean is in great anguish.

“Shit.” Sam frees himself from his own blanket and takes two long strides to Dean’s side. “Dean? _DEAN_ , hey, man, wake up!” He tries to take hold of his brother’s shoulders or arms or any other part of his body he can reach without being in danger of getting knocked out by flying limbs.

Dean’s face is screwed up tight as if in pain; his body twists and writhes on the bed as if he is being thrown around violently; his arms are rigid and move jerkily in front of him as if he is warding off blows; his head is thrashing on his pillow with such force that Sam worries that he’ll pull a muscle in his neck.

“Jesus, Dean, dude, c’mon, wake up!” Sam tries again and finally manages to get one hand on a shoulder and the other on Dean’s forehead, which is blazingly hot. “Hey, hey, hey….it’s okay! It’s me. It’s alright! DEAN!”

Sam is doing all he can to keep a grip on his brother, who’s thrashing continues without lessening in the least. A low keening reaches Sam’s ears now and tears straight into his heart with its pitiful pitch and tone.

_Jesus Christ, I’m gonna lose Dean again. He obviously can’t hear me or doesn’t want to or….he’s gonna slip under again… FUCK!_

Sam starts to panic in earnest now, his heartbeat pulsing uncomfortably in his neck, his vision blurring, but he wrenches himself back, concentrating hard on keeping his voice as even as possible to calm Dean.

“It’s ok, Dean. I’ve got you….you’re safe…! There’s nothing here to hurt you! You’re just having a nightmare!” Still no reaction from Dean, no sign that he recognized Sam’s voice or is even aware that he’s there. Sam’s heart drops into his stomach and he can feel the desperation like a hard knot in his gut.

“Please, Dean, come on, you gotta believe me! Don’t do this to me again. Please, come back to me! I need you.” the last bit comes out as a choked plea and Sam is shocked when all of Dean’s movement stops abruptly.

He has rolled onto his side and lies there, breathing ragged, arms folded tightly over his chest, legs pulled up into a fetal position and Sam’s heart thuds hard in his chest in sympathy for his brother’s misery.

One of Sam’s hands travels to Dean’s neck and takes a comforting, firm hold there. He immediately feels his brother’s pulse racing rabbit fast under his palm and the fine sheen of sweat that has broken out over Dean’s body.

“Are you with me? Dean? Can you hear me?” he calls in a soft voice.

A pause, then a tight nod from Dean, wordless. Eyes still closed. 

“You had a nightmare, man, but it’s over now. Ok? You’re safe here. We are at Lisa’s. It’s all good.” Sam is still fighting to get his own hammering heart back to a manageable pace.

Dean nods again, just once, but makes no other sound. 

“Can you open your eyes for me? Dean, please?” Sam kneels in front of his bed and tries to figure out if it is better to touch him or not. After a short pause, he lays his other hand very carefully on Dean’s forearm and is surprised by the immediate reaction of Dean clamping one of his own over Sam’s wrist.

Sam gives a small noise of surprise and almost pain as Dean’s hand closes over him like a vice.

His throat threatens to close up with the sudden welling of emotion, but Sam swallows hard and squeezes his brother’s arm, intensely grateful for the contact and the small sign that Dean wants him there.

“It’s alright, Dean. I swear. We are good….safe…it was just a dream. OK?” he keeps his voice deliberately light and normal. “I really need you to open your eyes and look at me now, alright?”

Dean gives and almost imperceptible shake of his head.

_OK, not ready for that yet….fine…let’s give him a little more time._

Sam’s eyes narrow in concern, but he keeps very still and concentrates on taking it slow, deep breaths in an effort regain both his composure and his normal heart rate.

He notices after a moment that Dean’s pulse has slowed as well and that he is breathing in sync with him. Another wave of relief and warmth floods through the younger Winchester at the realization that he _is_ helping Dean just by being close.

His thumb starts rubbing small patterns into the side of Dean’s neck feeling the tension in the strong cords of muscle there.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna look at me, can you at least tell me what your dream was about?” Sam tries again to coax a response out of his brother.

Dean’s face scrunches up slightly with such a Dean-like expression of “ _NO, don’t wanna talk about emo crap!”_ that Sam can’t help but smile a little. ‘ _It’s a really good sign_ ’, he thinks, ’ _if Dean can be annoyed by me right now.’_

After a long moment of silence, Dean’s face changes back into a more pained expression that makes Sam instantly apprehensive, he rasps two words.

“Stull Cemetery.”

It hits Sam like a slap in the face.

_Of course, Stull Cemetery….back to Fucking Stull Cemetery and what had to be one of the worst days of their lives. Where he had given Dean the worst beating he’d ever had to endure. Where Dean thought he lost everything and shut down as a result of it. Now he was reliving it in his dreams._

It all makes sense now, the thrashing, the defensive arm movements, the whipping around of Dean’s head, the refusal to look at Sam.

This time the realization punches him in the gut and the vivid memories of that day suddenly make him feel unclean and unworthy to touch his brother. Powerfully rising nausea is threatening to send him running for the bathroom.

“M’sorry, Dean, I’m so fucking sorry!” his voice sounds unfamiliar to his own ears, thin and broken.

_Sorry for all the pain he has caused Dean. Sorry for not having been stronger for his brother. Sorry for being unable to get Lucifer under control before he beat Dean within an inch of his life. Sorry for not protecting him better. Sorry for falling short….again!_

He releases Dean’s neck as if burned and starts to pull his other hand back from Dean’s arm, when his brother’s eyes fly open and he stares at him in utter confusion and panic, the light from the street lamp outside illuminating his features in a golden glow. Dean doubles his death grip on Sam’s wrist and this time he cannot hold back a small noise of discomfort at the stinging pain. Dean immediately relaxes his hold minutely, but not enough for Sam to squirm out from under it, which he tries feebly anyway.

“NO, Sam! Please…!” Dean’s voice grates, rough and desperate.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, bright green eyes melting into warm hazel ones, until Sam breaks the contact and looks down at the floor, but doesn’t try to escape his brother’s grip any longer.

“You don’t get to be sorry!” comes the older Winchester’s voice out of the dark, low but fervent. “You made it out! You got the upper hand on Fucking _Lucifer! YOU_ finished it!”

Sam doesn’t look up, doesn’t want to risk drowning in the emotions he may find in Dean’s eyes. He can feel himself tremble.

“Sammy, ’m so fucking _proud_ of you!”

The younger man's head snaps up and his face showing a mix of incredulity and hope.

“Yeah?” he asks tentatively and Dean’s heart expands about three sizes at the look on Sam’s face that makes him seem like he is nine years old again looking for approval during his first shooting lesson.

“Hell, yeah!” he croaks and there is the slightest hint of a smile on Dean’s face for a moment before it clouds back over with sadness.

He fights to stay present, not to seek the safety and quiet of the numbness in the face of the intense recollection of that day. He keeps his eyes locked on his little brother looking at him like he is the solution to all the world’s problems.

“ _I_ am the one who’s _sorry!”_ Dean continues in a rough whisper and rubs his free hand tiredly over his face. “Totally folded like a house of cards and checked out…and….left you there….alone!” Dean’s voice is cracking at the end of that and he closes his eyes again, trying to prevent his shame and guilt from spilling over.

 _Protect Sam, take care of Sammy, don’t let anything happen to your brother!_ His life-long mantra - hammered into his skull by his Dad and cemented into place by his own love for his little brother and belief that only he could do this job right – was mocking him now.

_He had failed….again….and left Sam to fend for himself._

Sam is speechless, looking down at his brother’s form still curled in on himself almost defensively.

_OF course, Dean would blame himself….he should have guessed. But he had to cut that line of thought off at the root, before Dean could slip away from him again, taking on the weight of the world and everything in it like he was bound to do…had always done..._

Sam gingerly extends his hand back towards his brother and hovers there for a moment, undecided on how to proceed. He yearns for the skin on skin contact and the warm reassurance that Dean is really there, alive and responsive, but he suddenly worries that he may overstep his bounds and make Dean uncomfortable. After all, Dean most likely doesn’t remember the new-found familiarity Sam has developed with his brother’s body. And is clueless about the side effects that came with it…

But after a single moment, Sam decides his caution deserves a good salt-n-burn; ashes scattered afterwards. Life is short and he missed contact with Dean so desperately while his brother was locked up in his own mind. He feels instinctually that they need to reconnect and he knows damned well that Dean would never ask for it or admit to it.

When his palm connects with the back of Dean’s head a small sigh escapes him unbidden. He lets the heat of Dean’s skin seep into his own and slowly flexes his fingers to massage his brother’s scalp. Sam is rewarded with a full body shudder and quiet moan from Dean that travels straight to Sam’s heart.

Sam takes a deep breath and pushes all other thoughts out of his mind. Most important right now is to get Dean back to his old confident self. Back into fightin’ mode.

“Hey, come on, man, we made it out, right? BOTH of us? More or less in one piece. No good harping on the past. ‘S not gonna change anything. You did _plenty_ to help me break Lucifer’s hold on me that day. Couldn’t’ve done it without you there. So can we just agree that we both pulled our weight in this shit storm and move on?” Sam asks gently, keeping up the calming massage on Dean’s skull.

Dean finally opens his eyes and focuses back on Sam’s face and the younger Winchester is stunned by the obvious love and trust he can clearly see there.

A small smile plays around Dean’s lips and he gives a tiny nod. “Yeah, I guess we better. Hell, m’sure it’s not gonna stay quiet for long, right?”

Sam huffs a quiet laugh and is giddily relieved that they seem to be ok and Dean’s not gonna wallow in his guilt for too long. Or at least that he’s willing to let it go – or suppress it - for the moment.

“Guess not. Can’t say I miss the action…but you’re probably right.” He sighs again, straightens up a little and starts to release his hold on Dean’s head.

“Don’t!” Sam stops in mid motion. “Feels nice….!” Dean looks at him a little embarrassed, but pushes back into Sam’s touch all the same. “You mind doing it a little longer?”

_Did he mind?! Fuck no….it felt amazing…both because Dean would let him now that was conscious and because he obviously enjoyed it. When did that happen?_

“Nah, don’t mind.” Sam tries hard to keep his voice casual, but it comes out a little lower and rougher than normal and he finds other parts of him to begin to stir. _OH, crap!_

Dean shoots him a sharp glance, but doesn’t comment. He lets his eyes drift closed instead and revels in Sam’s touch, which is slowly drifting down his tense neck now, and he is a little surprised at himself and the ease with which he accepts this new situation.

_Sam’s hands on him feel…so…good… so….natural ….familiar. Where’s that coming from? He’d never been the touchy-feely kind a guy – aside from shoulder bumping and rough housing. But this…is different._

Something is nagging at his mind and a memory is just floating under the surface, but he can’t quite get at it yet.

“You know, of course, I gotta kill you, if you ever speak of this to anyone,” he grumbles with a smirk.

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. God forbid someone should know you are human and need a little contact.”

“Hm, human…maybe…a girly cuddler…not ever!” Dean declares and Sam can’t help but grin like a fool at the tone that was almost sounded like his old Dean.

He is kneading Dean’s neck now, trying to work out the knots and tension that had moved in and took up residence there.

“You know, I could do a much better job at this, if you’d lie on your stomach,” he ventures.

Dean opens one piercing green eye to a slit and regards Sam critically.

“A much better job at what, exactly?” his voice a little mocking, but also challenging.

“Making you feel better…” Sam replies, poking a finger at a particularly dense muscle in Dean’s neck causing him to wince. “Got magic fingers, ya know?” and Sam wiggles the fingers of his free hand for emphasis in Dean’s face, grinning.

“Huh!” Dean huffs, still looking highly skeptical.

Sam’s hand tightens on Dean’s neck again and he asks more seriously. “Do you trust me?!” 

Dean doesn’t answer for a moment, but his face relaxes and he keeps steady eye contact with Sam, when he finally states firmly “You know I do.”

Sam’s heart swells at this and he finds himself choking on his quickly-rising emotions again.

‘ _God, I really need to get this shit under control.’_ He scolds himself.

Thankfully Dean doesn’t notice as he slowly starts to uncoil his body from its awkward, tense position and groans at the pain shooting through his back, neck and shoulders as he does.

“Fucking Christ!” he curses quietly, “Feels like a truck ran me over.”

After some rearranging they settle into new positions with Dean stretched out with his belly to the mattress, torso bare from the waist up, and Sam sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing his hands vigorously together to warm them up.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be….” Dean’s answer is muffled by the pillow, but Sam can still hear the slight apprehension in it.

He starts to evaluate Dean’s back with long strokes of his hands and gently probing nimble fingers looking for the tense spots and the kinks he’s planning to work on. Starting at the neck and shoulders, along the strong cords of muscle on either side of Dean’s spine, across his lower back, up his flanks and finally down his arms.

Dean feels a shiver build low in his spine that he tries to suppress and he takes a couple of deep, slow breaths to relax. But his mind goes back to its nagging; memories starting to clear up a bit.

_Lapping water? A pool or lake, maybe? No…..that couldn’t be right. Must’ve been in his mind. Warm, familiar, safe, protected…..that’s how he’d felt….when? After….Stull…when he’d thought it was Heaven. Waiting…always waiting for some….thing….no….someONE…SAM!_

Sam concentrates on Dean’s physique. His lower back always tenses up first, he knows, probably from years of sitting behind the wheel of the Impala. He lets his palm linger there, manipulating the spine a little as he digs into the muscle.

_Sam’s hands! His touch! His care! Always present when he was….gone! That’s it…..that’s what brought him back from…..the Twilight Zone, or whatever. Huh!?_

Dean’s shoulder always gives him trouble, too, Sam remembers. Muscles there seeming a bit strained and warm to the touch, probably compensating for some permanent damage done by too many injuries and dislocations over the years. Sam’s fingers work the sore muscle gently and persistently until he feels it lengthening and loosening under his attention and a deep sigh leaves Dean’s chest in appreciation of the relief.

“Hhhm, feels good!” he mumbles into the pillow.

Having Dean react and respond; so openly appreciative of the massage and the texture and warmth of Dean’s skin under his hands, does all kinds of interesting new things to Sam’s body that he seems powerless to stop. He resigns himself to have to find a way to deal with _that_ problem later. For now he is simply glad that he might be able to ease some of Dean’s physical discomfort. He shifts on the bed a little, trying to ease pressure on his slowly filling cock.

“Told ya, magic fingers,” Sam grins proudly and lets his hands drift to his brother’s side, where he knows the skin around a long puckered scar to be particularly tight and often uncomfortable for Dean.

“How’d ya learn this anyways?”

“Took some classes, when I was in Stanford. Wanted to surprise Jess for her birthday.”

“Bet it worked like a charm,” Dean states as if its fact. Sam just huffs a quiet laugh.

They fall silent again and Dean is hyper aware of Sam’s comforting presence next to him, his strong hands handling him with a unexpected ease and confidence and he distinctly feels a rush of heat flooding his body, spreading sunshine over his skin. His dick gives an interested twitch. 

 _HUH!?_ His mind drifts again as _more_ pleasant memories surface. _There was something else!_

Sam now moves on to Dean’s other shoulder blade, recalling it to be another area Dean often has problems with, kneading and stretching the muscles around it until he can easily dig in under it.

They’ve always had a more in-depth knowledge of each other’s body then most brothers would from the endless years of treating each other’s injuries, stitching each other up and tending the various wounds and ailments that came with their job. But Sam has to admit that the last weeks of close contact with Dean had given him infinitely more information to work with and now he shamelessly plans to take advantage of that new-found familiarity.

Dean can’t hold back a deep guttural groan as Sam goes to work on his upper shoulders in earnest now, because it feels like he’s stuck a finger in an electric socket and sparks are racing along his arms into his shoulders and neck.

Sam swallows hard at the almost obscene noise that travels straight to his groin with a shock of sensation and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, never stopping his movements, simply reveling in the feel of his brother’s warm, responsive flesh under his hands.

_FUCK, this feels incredible…._

_This….whatever this is….could be even better….if…._

They _both_ pull back mentally, shocked at their own admission. Thinking the same, feeling the same. So not planning to voice it, quite sure the other would never understand. 

_And anyway, this was just impossible, wasn’t it?! YES. This couldn’t happen. They are BROTHERS after all._

Sam shifts again on the bed, now sporting a treacherous semi pressing into the zipper of his jeans, and he concentrates hard to keep his breathing nice and easy.

‘ _This is so not good…I’m gonna have to work out an exit strategy here’_ Sam thinks, anxiety rearing its ugly head _. ‘God, Dean would be disgusted, if he knew. He can’t find out!’_

Dean in the meantime wills himself to go back to his relaxed state, but can’t completely ignore the heat pooling low in his belly or the definite beginnings of arousal making his skin feel tight and flushed. He is surprised by his strong reaction to Sam’s ministrations, but doesn’t feel any unease or revulsion about it for some reason. That fact, more than the actual feelings, puzzles him, though. _Shouldn't he be disgusted with himself? With Sam?_

 _Yeah, he’d noticed the way Sam looks at him now, so he is pretty sure, he isn’t in this alone…. What had caused this….shift? When did it start? Had he missed it….before? Had it always been there? NO. No way. This was wrong on so many levels of Heaven and Hell, he couldn’t even begin to analyze! Why didn’t he feel turned off by it? Grossed out even? Shouldn’t he? Yeah, definitely….should….But, FUCK IT, whatever._ _Didn’t they deserve a little break? A little comfort where they could find it? Hadn’t they earned this?_   

Still his mind is nagging and prodding him, not letting him go.

_Sam’s hands….yeah…definitely a big reason, why he came back down…why he took the risk looking for him….but there was more….there was something else, different. Some big…change…._

Dean lets out a sharp hiss and recoils as Sam starts in on one of his deltoids.  

“Watch it, dude! Not so magic fingers right now.” Dean complains and tries to squirm away from Sam’s strong grip.

“Come on, man, don’t be a wuss. That old gunshot wound’s messing with your nerves in there. Lemme work on it. Hold still.” He places a palm flat between Dean’s shoulder blades and pushes him down, effectively pinning him to the mattress, with very little effort.

“Yessir!” Dean growls sarcastically, annoyed at Sam’s tone but he can’t deny that it and the manhandling does all kinds of interesting things to his libido. Sam taking charge, being so sure of himself and his actions always made Dean proud as hell, but there is a whole new level of appreciation for it now aside from the facts that Sam’s voice seems to have developed a straight line to Dean’s dick.

_Christ, what was happening to him??!! How could he LET this happen?! He should stop…this…before it goes too far…._

Sam goes back to work and Dean can’t hold back the pained grunt, but he quickly shuts up as the initial pain melts into a sudden intense tingling sensation that crawls down his side and across his butt, raising gooseflesh all over his body.

 _‘Jesus, Sammy…..making it damn hard to stay brotherly here….’,_ he thinks fuzzily as another jolt of pleasure skitters to his groin.

He shifts hips on the mattress, trying to accommodate his quickly filling dick, a motion that instantly draws Sam’s eyes and has them widening in amazement.

 _“Holy Shit, is Dean feeling it, too?”_ Sam’s brain stutters and screeches to a halt at the possibilities. _“No way! Can’t be…. We just can’t….shouldn’t….FUCK!”_

As Sam’s disquiet kicks up a notch, and he wracks his brain for a possible out, Dean is actually relaxing deeper into the idea that this could be happening at all and that they are in it together, whatever the consequences.

_They’ve never been normal….always defied conventions…their lifestyle and crazy job didn’t allow for much personal connection….definitely not the white picket fence kind….even Lisa didn’t fit into that mold of suburban bliss completely….so….what was left for them?!_

By the time Sam finishes his work on Dean’s back, he is painfully hard and desperate to make a break for the bathroom and take care of his “problem”. Still, he tries to keep his cool and he doesn’t let his mind go down the unexplored path of “what ifs”.

His hands repeat the slow, easy stroking from the beginning of the massage and he ends at Dean’s head letting his fingers run over his scalp and the side of his face and along the edge of his ears and down his neck with only the slightest pressure, before he stops. 

Something in these last gentle touches finally snaps Dean’s memory back into place.

_HOLY SHIT….that’s IT…..Sam’s touched him like this before and then….there was….a KISS!_

_Sam had kissed him! Right?_

_OR was he remembering it wrong….could’ve been Lisa….or maybe it didn’t happen at all?!_

_Was all in his brain…his dream world._  

Dean lies very still, attempting to sort out his racing thoughts and jumbled emotions and get a clearer picture of the memory. But try as he might, it isn’t becoming any more distinct.

_FUCK IT, one way to find out!_

He realizes at that moment that Sam is talking to him, feels his weight lift off the mattress.

“WAIT!” he exclaims and Sam immediately plunks back down, halted by Dean’s forceful tone. 

“What’s wrong??” he asks, alarm in his voice.

Dean turns over onto his back, scoots up on the pillow a bit and pulls the blanket with him in one smooth motion, covering his lap with it. 

 _‘No reason to advertise the Goods, if I’m wrong about this.’_ He thinks to himself and realizes how nervous he is at the thought of what comes next. _‘Will he let me? Or run?’_

But his mind is made up and he takes the plunge. “Lemme try something, ‘K?” His hoarse voice is now ragged with nerves.

Sam looks like the proverbial deer in the headlights, his face softly illuminated by the street lamp outside the window of their room, eyes huge, as he sits stiffly on the very edge of the bed with his body half turned away from Dean.

“What?” Sam asks barely audible, but doesn’t make a move.

“C’mere, I need to see something. Make sure…” Dean’s gravely tone and the request make the skin prickle all over Sam’s body and he can’t fight down the shudder running through him.

_Fuck, Fuck, Fuck…..gotta go…now….shouldn’t he?_

For a moment every instinct in him demands flight. The urge to bolt from the room….again…is almost too much. ‘ _Don’t let Dean know, don’t let him see,’_ but the other part of his brain is screaming at him to stay, to wait, to give Dean a chance to do….what?

In the end, his curiosity is winning out over the primitive instinct.

He slowly turns back to Dean, whose hand comes up and slides behind Sam’s neck, fingers extending into the shaggy, soft hair there. At the same time Dean is pushing up onto one elbow, he starts to pull Sam towards him and he can see his brother’s eyes go even wider – showing both naked fear and desperate hope there.

“Dean?!” Sam mutters both question and warning.

Dean flexes his fingers at the back of his brother’s skull reassuringly. 

“”S ok, Sammy, just lemme…try…”

Their faces are so close now that his breath ghosts over Sam’s lips and he can feel his brother’s short, quick breaths in return.

Dean closes the last few inches of distance and softly presses his lips over Sam’s.

Sam can’t help the small moan escape his lips at the contact and Dean drinks it in and enjoys the hell out of the vibration it sends into him.

_Yeah, it WAS Sam…he HAD kissed him before! He was right!_

And he was suddenly sure that _this_ had ultimately caused him to fight his way back to reality and out of his catatonic state.

 _Crazy…..! Like some fucked up, horror version of Sleeping Beauty ….JESUS, Sam would have a field day with this._   

Dean pulls back just slightly and smiles at the way Sam is chasing the contact, is looking for more. Just a small movement, but definitely there. 

“U ok?” Dean asks voice husky and low.

“Uuuhh…yeah….think so…. _you_?” Sam mumbles, completely dazed with the knowledge that Dean has just initiated this and seems to be fine with it.

Dean doesn’t answer, but cups the side of Sam’s face and kisses him again, putting the slightest bit more pressure into it as he slowly moves his mouth on Sam’s, reveling at the feel of his soft lips giving into the motion.

_FUCKING HELL, Dean is kissing him. And it’s so much better than the chaste little peck he had placed on his brother’s lips when he was still gone._

The younger man feels his heart start to gallop in his chest again and his cock press painfully against the constraint of his jeans and it is all he can do not to simply grab at Dean, throw him down and _really_ start kissing him. Still, he moves up a little and slides one arm around Dean’s waist, splaying his hand wide over his back and pulling him close, exhilarated by the building enthusiasm in his brother’s kiss.

_Oh GOD, I can’t believe he is letting me do this…he’s not bolting or punching me…so fucking good!_

Dean lets his instinct take over and deepens the kiss, his tongue darting out and skimming gently against Sam’s upper lip, encouraging, coaxing, luring, until Sam opens up to him with a deep sweet sigh.

Dean is overwhelmed for a moment by the sheer force of Sam’s response, inviting him in and taking greedily whatever Dean is dishing out. His arm tightens around his brother’s waist, fingers digging into the opposite side of his torso and he is leaning into him, like he is drowning and Dean is all that keeps him afloat.

The pure need to connect with Dean on this new and unimaginable level pours off him in waves and combined with the his enticing taste, his familiar smell and new sensation of his body pressing into Dean, his fingers digging in between his ribs, Sam completely floods all of Dean’s senses.

_Fucking Christ….This is just too good to be true….and feels so…..right! But it….shouldn’t…._

His hand is tightening on Sam’s jaw, pulling him even closer, hungrily asking for more and he is nipping at his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, caressing its texture with his tongue. Sam breath hitches on a gasp and Dean can feel his nails bite into the skin of his back, which does nothing but stoke the fire in him even higher. Pure, fierce joy is coursing through him at his brother’s unexpected response and eagerness to meet him half way.

_He’d never dreamed of this or desired it…at least not knowingly…but now that it’s happening, he isn’t sure why it’d never crossed his mind before. They fit so naturally and easily together like puzzle pieces._

Dean slips his other hand under Sam’s t-shirt, suddenly craving more skin contact, and skims over quivering stomach muscles up to his broad chest. The sensation of Sam’s soft, bare skin under his calloused hand sends a shockwave of pleasure through him, tongues of fire licking up spine and he groans deep in his chest.

But Sam abruptly comes to his senses, always the more cautious of the two, and breaks the kiss, panting and wild eyed.

“FUCK, Dean!” he is staring at his older brother and wants nothing more than to dive back in, take possession of those gorgeous, kiss-swollen lips again and explore every inch of his mouth. “What are we _doing?”_

He lets go of Dean completely and scrambles away half a foot to create a safety zone. Then he rakes his hands through his tangled hair and stares at his brother. Dean sits up fully and has to restrain his hands from reaching out and burying themselves in the shaggy mess to pull him back in and really go to town on the boy.

His eyes narrow and he looks at Sam closely for any signs of disgust or disapproval, but can’t find any. Nothing but need and confusion show on his brother’s flushed face.

“Kissing?” he answers innocently and gives Sam a crooked half-smile.

Sam scoffs in exasperation. “Yeah….but….WHY?”

_Ooookay, he needs to tread very carefully here or he knows Sam will shut down and try to explain the whole thing away. And he is NOT having a discussion now….when they got this far and dammit, they had a good long way to go!!_

Before Dean can formulate an answer, though, Sam continues in a much smaller voice.

“I mean, what’s the end game here?”

That sends Dean reeling and his brain inconveniently disengages.

“The _end_ game?” he asks confused and surprised. “Uuuhmm, I’d say we are at the very start of whatever this is…..m’not really worried ‘bout the end game at the moment. Plus, _you_ kissed me first, remember?”

_FUCK, he hadn’t wanted to bring that up….at least not blurt it out like that…_

Sam freezes all of a sudden, holding his breath. He can feel the color drain out of his face and he wants to sink into the floorboards from shame.

Dean sees his lips press into a thin line as if he is trying to hide them and his throat works hard to swallow as his eyes lower to the hands he has clenched in his lap. And he wants to kick himself. Then he can barely hear Sam whisper.

“You _know?!_ You actually _remember?”_

To Dean’s utter horror Sam’s eyes start to well with tears and the expression of complete misery and guilt on Sam’s face is tearing straight into his heart.

_Double FUCK, he was no good at this….this was SO not the point!_

Sam’s mind goes straight to “worst case scenario mode” and he is suddenly certain that Dean knew all along, that he only kissed him to humor him, to make him feel better, to….what?!

“ _Jesus Christ,_ Dean, you didn’t have to do this, you know?” Sam grumps a note of anger creeping into his tone.

Dean is confused again, but catches on more quickly this time, guessing correctly at his brothers screwed up line of thought, and makes a firm decision. He quickly closes the distance Sam created between them and grabs his face in both of his hands.

“STOP, Sam! _Look_ at me!” he commands and knows that Sam is powerless to ignore this tone. Sure enough, his eyes travel back up to meet Dean’s and a tear is spilling over and sliding down his cheek, seeping under the thumb there. Dean gently wipes at it and caresses the other cheek for good measure.

“I kissed you, because _I wanted_ to. Because it felt like the right thing to do. Period, the end, okay?”

Dean’s tone is firm, but gentle and his eyes meet Sam’s straight on, blazing green and fierce. Sam is searching for any doubt, any hint of uncertainty or regret in them, but all he finds is open honesty and sincerity. He nods, reluctantly.

_Could this be happening? Should he let Dean move this along? He might still be confused…or….just wanting to please him….take care of him like always. God, he wanted to give in….but could he….should they?_

Dean let’s his hand slide into Sam’s hair and then down to his neck pulling him closer again and laying a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, when all he really wants is to rev up the engine again to their former speed and intensity.

“Dean…?” Sam protests placing his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “Hold on…I… _why’d_ you want to?”

Dean pulls back slightly to see Sam’s face but doesn’t release his hold on him, worried that he’ll scoot away again.

“Why’d I want what, Sammy?” he asks softly sensing the lingering apprehension in his partner’s body and mind.

“Kiss me….why’d you even want to?” Sam says quietly and fights against the urge to look down at the floor again, needing more urgently to see, to make absolutely sure, that this is not a fluke and Dean really means it.

“I mean, aren’t you….isn’t this….why aren’t you _pissed…_ that I kissed you…while you weren’t even…? Jesus, why isn’t this freaking you out?”

“Uuuhmmm, ‘cause you’re doing enough freaking out for the both of us….? Someone needs to keep a clear head…?” Dean ventures in a light tone, but keeps very still, understanding clearly that Sam is by no means on board with his own sense of adventure and exploration yet.

Sam’s eyes flash with irritation as he snaps. “I’m serious, Dean! This is…. _big._ ” _Wrong, wrong, so wrong, he should really say, but the word won’t come, doesn't seem to fit._

The older Winchester sighs deeply and let’s his nonchalance fall away. He lets his hand rest heavy and warm on Sam’s shoulder and squeezes lightly.

“I know, Sam, ‘m sorry, ok? This ain’t a joke to me either.” He takes another deep breath trying to decide what Sam needed to hear to make him believe that Dean was 100% sure of this.

“I dunno… _why_ …but it just doesn’t…to me…feel weird, I mean, ya know?” He stares at Sam’s mouth for a second, licking his lips unconsciously, then bites his lip and looks back up and sees Sam swallow hard, eyes wide.

“I just…I wanted to see, if I _remembered_ it….or _dreamt_ it…kissing you, I mean….and turns out…well, dammit, it feels _great_.” He grins a little shyly at Sam, hoping fervently that this feeble explanation is enough for his brother to let go of his worries and give this a shot.

“So….you’re not…I don’t….disgust you? You don’t….hate me for this?” Sam’s voice is hesitant, but not weak, strong in his desire to move past all doubt.

Dean goes still and stares at Sam in sincere incredulity. “ _NO, Sam._ You don’t disgust me and I don’t hate you….never….for something that kinda….crept up on us…both…from nowhere. You hear me?”

Sam nods again, tight and a little more enthusiastically as the excitement from before slowly spreads over his features again and he smiles at Dean.

 _Good, this_ was _new….for both…ok….they could work with this…not a one-sided thing then…both ok!_

“And now, if you, ass-hat, let go of your emo crap for a moment, I’d like to get back to it, alright?” Dean growls and pulls Sam closer, capturing his lips again.

At that Sam’s resistance breaks as fast as it had formed and he scoops Dean back against him and then lays him back down on the bed and sliding down next to him. Their mouths meet in a rush that has their teeth knock against each other with a loud click and Dean lets out a breathless laugh.

“Careful, Sammy, might need those later!”

“Really?” Sam smirks at him, a wicked glint in his slanted eyes. “For what?”

“All the better to eat you with!” Dean replies in a deep grumbling voice and gives Sam a toothy wolfish grin. Sam rolls his eyes, but chuckles a little.

“Yeah, right. We’ll see ‘bout that!” Sam mutters as he pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops it carelessly to the floor.

Then he leans back over him, shaggy hair framing his face beautifully and eyes half hooded with a sudden rush of need. One hand skims slowly up Dean’s side and across his chest and then slides behind his neck.

“Now, shut up and lemme….drive for a bit, k?” Sam’s voice had dropped about an octave and it sends a violent pulse coursing through Dean’s bones and has his cock take sharp notice, hardening quickly at the sheer implication of the tone and promise of what’s to come.

Sam presses his lips passionately to Dean’s and then he licks his mouth open and plunges in. There is no holding back now, no hesitation. Dean rises up towards him and slides both of his hands into Sam’s hair, marveling at the soft strands sliding between his fingers, and holds on for the ride. He takes Sam in deep, letting their tongues dance and tangle, sucking hard then nipping gently at it and all the while realizing dimly how different this is from any other kiss he has ever shared with another person.

Rougher maybe, but an equal give and take. They are totally in sync, familiar with each other’s body language and signals and the kiss rises to a fever pitch and intensity he has rarely experienced before. Sliding lips and nipping teeth, exploring tongues and soft moans and gasps filling the quiet around them.

Sam holds himself propped over Dean with one elbow and his free hand roams over Dean’s chest, scraping over a nipple; his tight stomach, enjoying the soft tremors there and back up his side, trying to memorize every dip and rise of muscle and bone, to settle splayed out over his ribs, all of it sending a constant current of pleasure like low voltage electricity across Dean’s skin. Sam revels in the feel of his brother’s body pushing into his touches and the sheer joy of being allowed to touch him this way. 

Dean’s senses are firing on all cylinders now, every caress winding him tighter, every kiss leaving him wanting more, every sound he can coax out of Sam letting him ride a bigger high. 

When Dean’s cock is straining painfully for attention and he is sure Sam isn’t in any better shape than he is, he takes his brother’s hand in his and guides it down to his lower stomach.

Sam’s head comes up, lips parted and glistening from their kissing and breath coming in harsh pants, but his eyes narrow in concern.

“Dean? Are you sure?”

Dean’s eyes are burning green with flecks of fiery gold as his chest is heaving, but he smiles teasingly at his brother.

“Well, _someone_ is!” he answers as he presses Sam’s open palm over his rock hard cock.

“ _OH GOD_!” he groans as his hand closes reflexively around Dean’s length and he feels the heat emanating through the soft cotton of his sweats.

“Yup, you can call me that!” Dean quips breathlessly but can’t keep the growl out of his voice at the absolutely amazing feeling of Sam’s big hand and strong fingers closing around him. “ _Oh, fuuuck, Sam!”_

Sam can't believe this and questions for a moment, if he’s about to wake up and discover this to be one enormously cruel wet dream. But then he gives an experimental slow tug and feels his brothers fingers dig sharply into his shoulders in response and sees his teeth sink hard into his lower lip and he’s back to business.

Sam makes short work of Dean’s pants and takes them off in one smooth motion. Then he pauses for a moment, looking in awe at his brother’s body stretched out before him and his flushed and swollen cock, steadily leaking pearly droplets onto his belly.

“Jesus, Dean, you are beautiful!” he hears himself say and is a little surprised that Dean’s not shooting back a snide remark at his “girly” comment, but his brother is far too busy scrabbling to get Sam’s pants off as quickly as possible.

In his haste his fingers, clumsy, slip and his knuckles collide hard with Sam’s impressive erection. He grunts and folds forward for a moment. “Shit, Dean, gimme a break, ok….m’gonna explode, if you go at it like that!”

“Sorry!” Dean wheezes. “Just wanna….come on…” His eyes are fever bright and a fine sheen of sweat is covering his face.

Sam practically rips his pants off and throws them aside, desperate to get his hands back on Dean and feel Dean’s hands on him in return.

Dean makes room on the bed for him and Sam sinks down by his side, propping up on one elbow again. As their bodies connect and slot together, front to side, skin on skin, muscles flexing and quivering they both gasp quietly at the sensation. Sam looks down at Dean for a moment in complete awe at the situation and the incredibly feeling of his brother’s lithe and gorgeous body next to him. But before the moment can overwhelm him Dean grabs and guides his hand back to his hard length. Sam let’s his fingers trail gently up and down Dean’s shaft and around his soft balls and he is looking his fill, committing the texture and shape of every impressive inch to memory and pulling such guttural sounds from Dean’s throat that his own cock leaks furiously in response.

Letting his instincts guide him Dean snakes an arm around Sam’s hips and gently scrapes his blunt fingernails across his lower back and down to his tight ass and up his cleft until he can feel Sam’s hot, swollen dick twitch and strain against his hip as a quiet moan escapes him. As Sam’s lips reclaim his mouth and their tongues are teasing and playing with each other again, Dean grabs a tight hold of Sam’s ass and pulls him hard against his side. 

“Uhu”, Sam chides immediately, but rolls his hips in a sinuous motion against Dean, “Said, I’m driving!”

Dean’s eyes flutter shut on a deep sigh as Sam encircles him firmly and starts stoking him with a slowly building, steady rhythm.

He fuzzily notes that Sam’s big paw manages to cover way more of his cock then anyone has ever done before, creating such delicious friction and drag that he feels his balls draw up tight immediately.

_Fuuuuck, this can’t be real….he’s not gonna last long….but it’s sooo…..awesome…._

Sam looks down at his brother in concentration and fascination trying to learn from his reactions, what feels good to Dean, how to read his body language in this new and exciting situation. Dean bucks his hips impatiently, when there isn’t enough friction; he winces minutely but his nostrils flare at the same time when Sam clenches his hand a little too enthusiastically; he squirms and arches up and makes the sweetest desperate noises at the back of his throat, when it seems just right.

Sam realizes in a daze how much it thrills him to give this to Dean and to have Dean trust him to do it well, to make him feel good.

When he twists his wrist slightly on the next firm upstroke and drags his thumb over Dean’s continuously leaking slit, he earns such filthy groan from him that Sam’s cock jumps eagerly in response and he can’t help but to grind another couple of hard thrust against Dean’s hip.

“Jesus, Dean, it’s…so hot!” he pants against Dean’s ear and sucks the lobe into his mouth and bites at it none too gently, making the older brother shiver and gasp, his hand convulsively tightening on Sam’s ass.

Dean loves Sam’s mouth on him, hot and wet and whispering filth against his skin that it makes tiny shocks run like needle pricks all over his body. His balls and groin feel like they’re on fire, so tight. 

 _The little fucker is good at this, too good, it’s totally addictive…._ Dean’s brain reports.

Sam leans down now and kisses the side of Dean’s neck, open mouthed and wet, receiving a full-body shudder in response and seeing gooseflesh spread over Dean’s torso. He grazes his teeth down to the juncture between his neck and shoulder and sets his teeth firmly into the flesh there. Dean’s hand comes up with a grunt and he clamps it tight on the back of Sam’s head. The younger Winchester grins into his brother’s skin and starts sucking a mark into the sensitive skin, worrying the skin between his teeth and then soothing it with little laps of his tongue. Dean lets out a drawn out moan and bucks up hard into his brother’s hand.

_God, he could do this all day - tasting and savoring Dean’s scent and flavors, so different from anything he ever had, addictive in its novelty, comforting in its familiarity – fucking fantastic because of Dean’s reactions._

Sam increases the speed of his strokes and Dean can’t help but to glance down himself in curiosity to see

his own flushed and slick cock sliding through the circle of his brother’s strong grip. Another groan punches out of his lungs at the insanely hot sight.

_Fuck….this is crazy, right? But it’s also perfect._

He feels like he hasn’t been this hard in years and he is sure he’d never felt this loved, this safe, this free with a partner before.

“Sam…” he rasps without meaning to, the single word conveying his bone-deep appreciation and reverence for his brother and sending an involuntary shiver through the younger man’s body.

“Yeah….Dean…I’ve got you….” He whispers into his brother’s skin and lets his mouth slide down onto Dean’s well-built chest, where he slowly and carefully closes it over one dusky nipple, suckling it gently for a moment, before nipping at the quickly hardening bud with sharp little bites.

Dean’s hand in Sam’s hair flexes almost spasmodically, pulling at it tightly, as he arches up with a sharp intake of breath and then collapses back to the mattress with an almost embarrassing sound he would never openly admit to.

_Holy Mother of Fuck, where was all this coming from??? Sam knew exactly what buttons to push…._

Sam chances a glance at Dean’s face and the pure bliss he finds there sends a fiery jolt down his spine. His brother’s head is thrown back on the pillow, tongue sliding over his beautifully sculpted, half parted lips leaving them shiny, his breaths coming in shallow, ragged pants.

“Sam, please, I….’m not….gonna last!” he grates out, overwhelmed by the quickly building pleasure and exquisite sensations throughout his body. His cock is about to explode and his balls are so sensitive that every movement sends a shock of pleasure pain into his belly.

He’s also hazily aware, that Sam is rolling his hips steadily into Dean’s side now in an attempt to give his own raging erection some relief. He wants to help his brother, get his own hands on Sam, make him feel as amazing as he feels right this second, but he quickly realizes he’s beyond that now. 

“ ‘S okay, Dean, I’m here. I’m right here. You can let go.” Sam coaxes as he speeds up his strokes and tightens his grip all the while watching his brother’s face not wanting to miss a second.

The climax hits Dean like a freight train. His hips stutter and buck hard into Sam’s hand as his body seizes up as a rush of heat pulls out of his limbs into his core like a firestorm, sucking the air from his lungs in the process. And suddenly the sensations explode outwards, racing along every nerve in his body with an intense tingling and carry him off like a leaf on a fiery updraft. He feels weightless and mindless in utter ecstasy.

Sam sees a deep flush rise up Dean’s chest and neck as his teeth dig hard into his lower lip, then slacken on a long moan dragged from the core of Dean’s being. The sound vibrates through Sam’s body and he thrusts his dick hard into Dean’s side in his own desperate need to release. Dean’s fingers sink deep and bruising into Sam’s muscled ass, supporting his thrusts and wanting to feel his cock closer against him.

 _“Jesus, fuuuck!”_ bursts out of him as he spills hot and forceful over Sam’s hand and his own belly.

Sam keeps stroking Dean through his release, trying to draw out the orgasm as much as he can, but the sights and sounds of his completely blissed-out brother writhing under his touch; the searing hot, hard length of him in his palm; and the incredible friction of his own dick thrusting against Dean’s hip, quickly pull Sam dangerously close to the edge. The ever building pleasure is leaving Sam helpless to control the sounds falling from his lips and he feels torn between wanting to slick his own cock with Dean’s come and strip himself raw and the instinctive refusal to relinquish his hold on Dean.

“Yeah, that’s it, Sammy, c’mon…. _fuck, so hot…._ ” Dean encourages him in a voice so gravely and rough, it has Sam shiver from head to toe.

Dean revels in the effect he has on Sam in this way and the sheer physical sensation of Sam all around him – touch and smell and taste. His mind is still hazy from the peak he just reached, but his body is responding to his brother’s every move and noise with another surge of raw lust and he feels himself hardening again.

“Shit, Sammy, yeah….c’mon…wanna….see you come all over my cock…” He grinds out and thrusts into Sam’s hand once more with quick, rough jerks of his hips. “Come for me…Sam…”

Sam’s mouth thoughtlessly closes on Dean’s shoulder, teeth scraping the collar bone, and he groans into his brother’s skin as a powerful prickling sensation races up his spine and numbs his legs before the pleasure pooling low in his belly rushes out of him like hot lava.

 " _Oh GOD, fuck, Dean!”_ he shouts as he releases in thick, white ribbons, painting Dean’s side and belly, mixing his own with his brother’s come there. His hand tightens like a vice around Dean and the older brother arches up and comes in another series of short, hard spurts and with noise like he is dying. They are shuddering and shaking, muscles convulsing, breaths mingling in harsh pants and small guttural noises, Sam’s head on Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s hands in Sam’s hair and the other on his lower back flexing and stroking and helping him through until the younger man collapses against his brother, boneless.

 

They lie tangled up in each other, stunned and panting for a long while, both trying to organize their heads and hearts into some semblance of their former selves.

Sam finally rolls onto his back, still trembling with small aftershocks, brain fuzzy and still riding the high of the previous moments, aware of the sweltering heat of Dean beside him and the scents of both of their spent bodies heavy on the air.

He revels in it for a moment, lets it envelop him, sooth him – this…new…so… _wrongcrazyawesome_ sensation.

But when the air in the room starts to feel cool on his sweat slick skin and the mess they created between them slowly turns into a less than sexy, concealed substance on Dean’s stomach, Sam stretches out an arm and picks his T-Shirt off the floor starting to clean them both off carefully.

A helpless bubble of laughter suddenly breaks from his chest. 

“Man, we are SO fucking doomed!” Sam wheezes out between slightly hysterical laughs.

Dean lifts his head an inch and opens one eye to stare at Sam sideways, looking if his little brother has lost it.

“Huh?” he grunts.

“I mean… _Fuck_ …this…was…amazing!” Sam’s laughter eases into dark chuckles. “But….man…this is…I mean, isn’t it….?”

He trails off as the last of his humor drains away and leaves something else in its wake that Sam can’t quite identify. It’s not shame exactly, but a definite acknowledgement of certain wrongness. It’s not fear exactly, but more a start of desperate defiance. Most of all it’s the need for guidance, advice, comfort.

Sam rolls over onto his side carefully resting his head on Dean’s chest and slinging one arm across Dean’s torso hoping fervently that Dean won’t rebuff him with another comment about “girly cuddling” or similar crap.

“Where do we go from here?” Sam’s voice is small now and sounds so child-like, Dean is momentarily transported back to their past, when his little brother had started to ask all of the hard questions and Dean had no good answers.

He is hugely relieved at the fact that Sam took the first step seeking continued closeness, because over the past few minutes Dean had tried to figure how to manage it without seeming needy or desperate. He slides one arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulls him in closer. 

"I dunno, Sam." His long slow exhale stretches in the dark. "No clue, what we're gonna do next." He is quiet for a moment, trying to form the right words, if there are any, for this situation, and tracing unconscious patterns on Sam's arm, where it lays on his stomach.

"You know…I thought I was in Heaven," he finally continues and Sam reels a little at the abrupt change of subject. 

"Huh?" 

"I thought, I was in Heaven", Dean repeats "After Stull...when I checked out?"

"Yeah, I finally figured that out," Sam breathes the words softly across Dean’s chest.

"You did, did you?” Dean’s voice chimes with approval and after a short moment he continues in a contemplative tone.

“Was different…from what I remembered…from our trip there before. First I was thinking I was at a pool, floating. Couldn't see or hear anything, just _feel_ stuff. Then I was sure it was a lake. And...I was…happy there…but always....waiting for something. Couldn't figure out for what. Drove me nuts. Just knew something was missing. That it was not right...somehow." 

He falls silent again and struggles with himself to find the courage to finish this line of reasoning. Sam wonders after a minute or so if that was it, if he should jump in, but decides to wait Dean out, willing him silently not to chicken out, to keep going, to let Sam in.

 _Goddammit, this is hard......harder than charging into a Vamp nest or facing a pack of ghouls..harder than waiting for the damned hellhounds._  

Dean finally takes a deep breath and continues in a rush, voice a grating whisper. 

"I finally got it. It was _you_. What was missing, I mean. If this was Heaven, you were supposed to be there. You willingly took on Lucifer and jumped into the fucking rabbit hole to Hell to save the world. This should've given you the express elevator ride upstairs. So, I was waiting for you to get there....That was the deal, right? A shared Heaven?" Sam can feel a tremor running through Dean and he splays his hand wide over Dean’s ribs and holds on, like he wants to keep him in one piece. He suddenly realizes that his lashes are wet and he blinks a few times rapidly to clear the tears.

"But, I never came...." he whispers into Dean's skin, horrified at the idea of having left Dean hanging for so long. He feels Dean’s fingers slides into his hair and cup the back of his head reassuringly.

"No, Sam, that’s just it! You **_did_**. Just not in the way, I imagined. Remember, all I could do was feel....and...what I felt was...You. The way you took care of me, when you were close. Then I finally started to hear you, too. You pulled me back. Got me to see, what’s….real, ya know?! That I wasn’t…done."

Dean feels Sam tremble beside him and trying to pull away a little, but he tightens his hold on him, keeping him close.

"Hey, don't, ok? It's all good." he shakes him a little. "My point is, this...whatever this is....I kinda think it’s ok...it feels _good_ , like home, not wrong...you know.....like it's meant to be...." 

Dean is squirming now, realizing belatedly how heavy the emotions and the need to make Sam understanding them weigh on him, and feeling slightly overwhelmed and uncomfortable having spilled his guts so thoroughly with this extended “chick-flick” moment.

Sam on the other hand is intensely grateful for the full disclosure, especially because he is painfully aware how rare a moment of complete openness from Dean really is. But he can’t help but smile a little at his brother’s obvious show of discomfort and decides to relieve him of having to go any further.

“I think you just won the emo Olympics with that speech!” he murmurs into Dean’s shoulder and bites him playfully for good measure. “Must be the most words of any emotional depth you ever strung together!”

“Oh, _fuck you”,_ Dean grumbles, but Sam can hear the smile under the gruff words.

He grows serious again and pushes up on one elbow to look down at Dean’s face.

“You get, though, that we….shouldn’t….kinda can’t….I mean, we _are_ brothers!” he stutters, searching for the right words to give Dean an Out of this.

Dean glares up and furrows his brow angrily.

“Oh, c’mon, Sammy, don’t play the incest card on me….low blow, man!” He growls and his voice is definitely getting rougher by the minute now protesting its sudden overuse.

“But, don’t you think this is totally insane and….wrong?”

“Say’s who?”

“Uuuhmm, everybody….society….the Bible…?”

Dean snorts and shrugs, one eyebrow cocked mockingly. “Yeah, and when have we ever listened to _everybody_? OR the _bible_? In fact, I think we’d proven the Bible to be wrong, or at least painfully incomplete, more than once!”

Sam is wracking his brain for any other argument to bring, for anything that would make irrevocable sense to him…and Dean, why this shouldn’t go any further, that they should cut their losses and leave it be.

They are also both thinking of Lisa on some level in this moment, but both understand that this…here…now…is between them first and foremost and doesn’t involve anybody else until they can be sure how to reposition themselves in each other’s life. Both have a concrete certainty that if they can figure _that_ out the rest will fall into place somehow on its own.

“Listen, Sam”, Dean says seriously and looks straight into his brother’s eyes. “I don’t know, what else to tell you other than I _know_ there is something here that feels good and right to me. That I am willing to give it a shot. But I also totally get and respect, if this is not for you or….too weird. If you want me to drop it and back off, just tell me _now_ and we move on, ‘K? No harm done.”

Sam stares down at him, gnawing at his lower lip, eyes soft and he looks so impossibly young and lost in that moment, that Dean wants nothing more than to reach out and reassure him, like he did a thousand times when they were kids. But he knows that Sam needs to work this through on his own and make his own unimpeded decision, if they want give this a chance and take on whatever anybody thinks next. So he lies completely still, tries to keep all emotion off his face and doesn’t touch Sam at all. All the while his heart is thumping too fast and his mind is screaming in rhythm with it _“Say no, Say no, Say no, Say no!”_

Sam scrutinizes Dean’s face again for any trace of doubt or recklessness, any indication, that this is one of his trademark “storm in and worry about the consequence later” moves, that he will regret later, when they are both bruised and bloodied from what comes next. But he can’t find any. All he sees is his big brother’s dedication and love and the inexplicable willingness to go there….with him…

Sam knows that they’ve always been more than “normal” brothers were to each other. Their stubborn refusal to let go of each other even after death; their capacity to forgive the most dire mistake or slip of judgment, no matter how pissed or disappointed they were at each other; their quick draw on anybody, when jumping to the other’s defense; their willingness to go however far it takes to save the other - all were signs of a deeper connection, a deeper devotion and love than many other people would ever experience in their lives. So what, if that link simply found yet a deeper level to bind them, to show each other that they mattered, that they were loved and give themselves a measure of reassurance and pleasure in return… Was that really so wrong?

“ _No_ ,” Sam finally says in a quiet voice that nevertheless rings with so much conviction that it sets Dean’s chest clanging like a big bell was struck. “It's too late for that.

Sam delights at the joy flitting over Dean’s face at his declaration and then blushes at the smoldering look Dean directs at him immediately after.

“Good” the older Winchester growls “’Nough talking then, it’s settled.”

He slides his arms around Sam and rolls on top of him before descending into a scorching kiss, that leaves them both breathless and half hard again in no time flat.


	10. Horizon

Sam wakes up surprisingly late the next morning and finds Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him with a small smile.

“Mornin’” Sam mumbles, rubs his eye and then stretches luxuriously and extensively, giving Dean an unintentional show of rippling muscle and miles of soft skin that the older Winchester enjoys quite unabashedly with a cocked eyebrow and crooked smile.

“Mornin’ Sleeping Beauty.” Dean teases when Sam more or less snaps back into his original shape.

“Lisa’s waiting for us with breakfast. Says she needs to take off for a couple’a days to help her mom move. Shouldn’t we help with that?”

Dean’s tone and face are both questioning as he still doesn’t feel completely connected with the reality of being back and is trying to fit himself into the niche left open in the routine Lisa and Sam have clearly developed over the past few weeks. He is both happy that the two people closest to him apparently get along so well and a little disoriented by the fact that he missed out on seeing this new familiarity grow between them.

So he thought it best to simply accept Lisa’s statement about her mother’s move as fact and check in with Sam about the proper response to it later.

“Ugh, yeah, I totally forgot about the move today.” Sam sweeps his hair back from his face and scratches at the back of his head for a moment.

“So, should we go with and help?” Dean prompts again, raising his eyebrows in question at Sam’s apparent lack of urgency or support.

“Naw, she hired a service to do all the heavy lifting and packing. I helped her organize a few things last week, but she said the next couple of days will be mostly about going through the personal stuff, deciding what comes and what goes, ya know? We won’t be able to help with that.” Sam falls silent for a moment, trying to figure out how much Dean should know about his time _away,_ but finally decides that it would probably better to tell him, so the time doesn’t seem like such a black hole to Dean.

“You came with, by the way….to Lisa’s mom’s house.”

Dean looks at him steadily, one eyebrow quirked up (“And?”), waiting for Sam to continue. 

Sam breaks out into a mischievous grin. “Mrs. Braeden fed you oatmeal-raisin cookies all afternoon and homemade lemonade. It was pretty adorable!”

Dean’s face changes into a murderous glare. “ _Oatmeal-Raisin???_ Ugh, no way I ate that! Tastes like cardboard with squirrel shit.”

“Well, apparently Mrs. Breaden’s _oatmeal-raisin_ cookies are delicious to you. You couldn't get enough. I actually think you had a stomach ache later, you didn’t want any dinner that night…serves you right, though.”

“What kinda brother are you for tricking me into _health food_ when I can’t defend myself?” Dean chides, voice still rougher than normal, but much better than the day before. Sam actually quite likes the gravelly rasp that sends all kinds of interesting signals through his body.

“HA, the _health_ food wasn’t all….you also went to the gym every day and….you…liked…it!” Sam teases in a triumphant voice.

“You’re kidding me! I did not!” Dean looks genuinely horrified. “You dragged me to the gym and what….showed me off to your brain-dead steroid buddies there?" 

“Nope, that was Lisa…I just went along for the fun of watching you suffer.” Sam smirks, deep dimples showing in his cheeks and eyes slanting and sparkling and Dean has a moment to reflect how stunning that makes him look.

 _Damn, the boy is beautiful!_ Flashes through Dean’s brain and he would like nothing more than to plant a kiss on his brother’s gorgeous, smiling lips in that moment. But he squelches that _‘chick brainwave’_ quickly and punches Sam on the arm instead.

“You’re so gonna pay for that!” he promises with a low growl and their eyes lock for a moment of shared heat.

Then Dean gets up off the bed. “Ok, you better hurry it up with the shower. See ya downstairs!”

Sam sits on the bed a moment longer, both thrilled and terrified at the idea, what two days alone in the house with Dean would mean in their current situation that feels as fragile and delicate as a newly hatched baby bird. 

With a big sigh he finally saunters into the bathroom to get ready for the day, reluctantly washing away the last traces of last night’s adventures.

 

************************************

 

Breakfast is as relaxed and lighthearted as dinner the evening before. Dean participates more in the conversation and banter and all three enjoy the way they feel comfortable and at ease around each other.

But there are moments when one watches the other two quietly and unobserved trying to gather new insight into their overall situation and dynamic.

Lisa notices right away how Dean reciprocates Sam’s apparent need for physical contact. There are very small gestures and touches that are exchanged between the two and acknowledged by the other and Lisa is sure that any outsider would miss them completely. The two men simply orbit around and move with each other in a way that speaks of a long-standing connection and awareness of the other’s presence and position. Lisa hasn’t seen the brothers in action together enough to judge if this is an old or new habit, but it seems simply right and normal to her, so she doesn’t spend too much time thinking about it. The way they pause and look at each other almost as if in surprise, however, seems new to her and she can’t quite put her finger on the reason behind it, that seems to be more than simply joy of being back together again. But she pushes the investigation of it to the back of her mind since her thoughts are preoccupied with the upcoming task of moving her mother into her new home at the Senior Residence.

Dean continues his observation of Lisa and Sam’s interaction and is surprised by the open affection they both display towards each other. A sideways hug here, kiss on the top of the head there; a look here, a squeeze of the hand there; a suggestive joke here, an elbow in the ribs there….it all seems to speak of a firm knowledge of the other’s boundaries and a shared history….unusual after only three weeks. _Gonna have to ask Sammy about this later. See if there’s more to it?_

Oddly though it doesn’t bother him. It’s just another curiosity in their life, another piece of their puzzle.

Sam leans back and watches how Lisa and Dean are making small steps to reacquaint themselves with each other. It’s a little hesitant and almost shy, but Sam definitely sees the deep-rooted care and fondness underneath the slight awkwardness. Funny enough, they are both using Sam almost like a go-between or reference point, involving him in every question and exchange in one way or another. He questions again, if he is doing the right thing by being here. _Is he standing in their way? Shouldn’t he leave them alone for a while to really get to know each other? **Can** he still leave after everything that happened last night? _ Sam feels a dark cloud gather over his head and in his heart as guilt bubbles up once more at the suspicion that he is making Dean do something against his better judgment. _He may have to stick with his original plan and bow out for a time._  

Trying his best not to let this line of thought drag him under, he doesn’t realize that Dean’s attention has focused on him sharply once more. Before Sam can manage to settle his face back into a more cheerful expression, Dean has already noticed a remote sadness there that makes him instantly anxious as he remembers Lisa’s slip up yesterday regarding Sam’s leaving and Sam’s overly adamant statement that he wasn’t. _Somethin’s up here…and I better figure it out, quick._

Before long they finish breakfast and Lisa readies herself for her two day trip, grabbing her overnight bag and an armful of empty, folded boxes.

“Alright, you two. I’ll be back late Sunday night. There’s some lasagna in the freezer and some chili, if you don’t feel like cooking.”

“OK, _Mom!”_ They both intone in a whiny teenaged voice.

“Oh, screw you two!” She crunches her face up in annoyance. “Just tryin’ to be nice here!”

Dean steps forward and wraps his arm around her shoulders pulling her tight against him. “I know, Lis’. I’m sorry. I do really appreciate it. Everything.”

He kisses her forehead and she leans into him as close as she can manage with her full arms. Tilting her head up to him, she whispers. “You don’t have to keep telling me that. I’m just happy you are here and I can help. I missed you so much.”

Dean leans down to her and kisses her soft, full mouth gently letting his lips linger for a moment before he pulls back and murmurs into her ear. “Ok, got it. No more thanks. Missed you too, Lis.” 

When Dean lets her go with a smile, Sam steps in and hugs her close as well, kissing the top of her head.

“Drive safely, ok. And say ‘hi’ to your mom.”

“Yeah, ok, behave yourself – both of you!” She looks at them both in turn on more time, enjoying their genuinely warm and caring smiles and marveling again at the fact, how she ended up with TWO exceptionally gorgeous and decent men in her life now, when she used to be tossed from relationship to relationship like a paper ship on a rain swept drain.

She steps out and closes the door on them already looking forward to her return, convinced that they will make this strange triangle work.

********************************

Silence descends for a moment in the hallway. Both Winchesters are deep in thought for a second, before Sam clears his throat and asks.

“Wanna go for a run or a walk?”

Dean stares at him like he has three heads. “Nooo! As far as you just told me, you two worked me half to death in the last three weeks. I think I deserve a break from working out. 

Sam can't help but grin at what is such a typical “Dean attitude” that it warms his heart more than it annoys him at the moment.

“Yeah, ok, you’ll get a pass….TODAY….but that’s it! Dude, you need to move and get back in shape, ok. Lisa really only did the minimum with you, but you lost a bunch of muscle tone,” Sam tells his brother seriously. “Anything coming at you now is just gonna push you over.” _And I may not be right there to protect you,_ he adds silently in his head.

Dean’s brow wrinkles in a scowl. “Hey, I think you just insulted my manliness _and_ my fightin’ skills!”

Sam smirks again but doesn’t counter.

“Hey, can we go for a ride again?” Dean suddenly asks with a happy grin. “In the impala, I mean, like yesterday?”

Sam studies his brother’s excited face for a moment.

“Sure, if you want. Let me just put on some decent clothes then.” He gestures down at himself in his running gear.

“Ok, don’t be too long. Don’t need to get all dolled up for me, ya know?” Dean shoots a devilish smile at Sam that has his heart skip a beat.

“Shut up, jerk!”

“Hurry it up, bitch!”

Sam lets out a bark of laughter and quickly runs upstairs to get changed.

 

As soon as Sam is out of sight on the top landing, Dean feels awkwardly lonely. The space and silence of the empty house suddenly seem to crash down on him like it’s trying to entomb him. His heart starts to race and his vision is fuzzy for a moment and it’s hard to breathe.

 _Not alone, you’re not alone._ _Sammy’s here, just need Sammy, that’s all._

Taking two steps at a time he bounds upstairs after his brother. Once he gains the top of the stairs the sensation disappears and he feels slightly idiotic for his over-reaction.

He takes two slow steps towards the half-open door of their bedroom and stops, when he sees Sam sitting on the foot end of his bed, leaned forward, elbows on knees and staring at the floor, with the same lost and sad expression on his face he showed earlier in the kitchen.

_What the Hell was going on?! He’d better get Sammy out of his headspace pronto, because this…here…ain’t good._

“Sam?” he calls softly as he pushes the door fully open.

“Almost ready,” Sam snaps to attention on the bed and goes back to tying his boot as if nothing happened.

Dean walks up close to him and puts one knee between Sam’s spread legs on the mattress, dangerously close to his crotch. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asks in alarm looking up at Dean with wide eyes.

“Think I changed my mind about riding…..at least in the Impala!” Dean says quietly and pushes at the center of Sam’s chest with one hand so he scoots farther back on the bed. “Maybe working out isn’t such bad idea after all.”

Sam almost swallows his tongue at the implications in Dean’s voice. _What the fuck?_

“Uuuhhmmm, what’d ya have in mind?” he asks as innocently as possible, while the blood starts to roar in his ears.

“Oooohhh, m’ sure we can figure something out that’ll be helpful for our core strength?” Dean takes hold of the bottom hem of Sam’s T-shirt and pulls it slowly up over his head, letting his fingertips skim over Sam’s quivering muscles all the way up.

 _SHIT!_ Sam feels a clear tightening in his groin as he shivers violently at the feather-light contact ghosting over his skin.

Dean pushes again, this time at his brother’s shoulders, more forcefully now, and the younger Winchester quickly kicks off his boots and scrambles back even more before letting himself sink down on his elbows.

Kneeling between Sam's thighs, Dean looks down at him with a mischievous grin and Sam is again overwhelmed by the love and appreciation he can see clearly reflected back at him behind the soft green of Dean's eyes.

_How does he deserve this? A week ago he didn’t even know what he was missing and wouldn't have known what to ask for...and now....he can't imagine living without this added benefit. Holy shit....Dean's hands...uungh._

Dean smoothes his hands up Sam's arms and then down his sides slowly, languidly, letting his fingers rise and fall over every swell of muscle, ridge of bone and into the valleys between. He savors the soft texture of Sam's skin stretched taught over lean muscle, flexing and contracting beneath his touch. 

_‘Damn, the boy is shape! I guess all the fucking running and working out does do something for him after all.....huh! Might have to look into that…’_

He glances up to Sam's face noting that his eyes are shut and fluttering and his teeth worry hard at his lower lip. Sam has his head laid back, exposing the long strong line of his neck and he makes the softest little sounds in the back of his throat at Dean's attention.

Dean lets his thumbs dip beneath the waistband of Sam's boxer briefs, the fly of his jeans still conveniently open from the change of clothes, as they follow the cut V from his obliques down and earns a groan and most enticing undulation of ab muscles from his brother at the action. His fingers travel up the center of Sam’s torso, excruciatingly slowly, moving along the soft trail of downy hair and around his belly button, before tracing the shape of his well-defined abs and up to his chest. Sam sighs deeply; content, and the happy sound goes straight to Dean's groin, sending a skittering jolt along his cock.

_FUCK, the sounds coming out of Sam, when he is enjoying something are criminal. Quite honestly he is still reeling at being allowed to do this at all and not have Sam's fist planted in his face. But the fact that Sam obviously loves it is almost too much to comprehend._

Dean marvels at the reactions he can pull from Sam by just simple touches - the deep shudders, sudden twitches, long low moans, sharp hisses and soft gasps at his thorough and adoring exploration of the landscape of his brother's body send a thrill through Dean that he has never experienced before. He is thrilled at the way Sam trusts him to make this good for him; that he is allowed to give him pleasure.  

_How can this be wrong? It sure as hell doesn't feel wrong._

Dean is suddenly reminded, how making Sam laugh used to be one of his favorite things to do when they were kids. Sammy had always been a more serious kid than most, wicked smart and observant; understanding way too much too soon. So getting him to giggle and laugh, totally be a kid and be silly, had been one of Dean's greatest joys when they were young. Giving his little brother the simple carefree pleasure of laughter and forgetting reality for a while made Dean incredibly happy at the time.

He realizes how this ...now...is still following the same concept and filling him with joy for the same reasons.

_He just found a new way to give Sam pleasure, to let him enjoy some carefree happy time, take care of him - it's just the adult version...yeah.. he can live with that! Screw the rest of the world._

Dean is suddenly eager to add another layer to his mapping of Sam's physique and slowly licks a hot wet stripe from the edge of his boxers to the hollow of his throat, letting Sam’s taste flow over his tongue with small hints of soap and salt and warm spice. He sees gooseflesh erupt in the wake of his tongue’s path and softly blows over the quickly cooling trail to heighten the sensation for Sam.

His brother lets out a long soft moan at that and bends his neck back even more – an invitation. Dean doesn’t need to be asked twice and noses the sensitive skin from Sam’s collarbone to his ear, following the path with the scruffy stubble on his chin, eliciting a shiver and a hiss from his brother at the contrasting sensations.

Dean inhales deeply and takes in Sam’s familiar scent that always reminds him of coffee and pie, home-cooked meals and something like fresh clean linens, comfortable, homey smells of a life they never had, but always imagined, when they were little.

He is shaken out of his reverie by Sam’s insistent hand in his hair, pulling him up to his mouth. And Dean goes willingly, kissing Sam slow and deep, licking into his mouth, softly tangling their tongues, sweeping and gliding, before tracing the edge of Sam’s bottom lip with his tongue and then sucking in tight into his own mouth, drawing a choked sound out of him and a full body shudder underneath him.

 _“Yeah, little brother, I’m gonna make you crazy tonight, totally blow your mind….and maybe….other things!”_ , he promises silently.

 _“This isn’t all that different from making girls go out of their mind with need. Just have to add in, what I works for me.”_ Dean thinks with confidence.

He is holding himself up with one arm on either side of Sam’s body, still kneeling between Sam’s spread thighs, using his mouth as the only point of contact for the moment. He takes Sam’s hand out of his hair and the other from where it is clutching at the sheets and stretches the younger man’s arms up and over his head, where he wraps his fingers around the slats of the headboard.

“Stay like this!” Dean rumbles close to Sam’s ear and then takes the sensitive lobe into his hot mouth before letting his tongue follow the outer edge of its shell. “Do…not…let…go!”

 _“Jesus Fuck”,_ Sam thinks desperately as the promise in Dean’s voice sends heat racing over his skin like flames licking up his body and setting his nerve endings on fire. _“If he keeps going like this, I’ll come in my fucking boxers like a teenager!”_

His cock is straining against the tight embrace of his jeans, looking for attention, rock hard already, even though Dean has specifically avoided all contact with it so far.

Sam is trying hard to relax his mind, to just let go and enjoy what Dean is giving him, but his body’s strong unbidden reactions overwhelm him and embarrass him a little at the same time. He feels like a starving man who is set down in front of a feast he’d never been able to imagine and is apprehensive to dig in with both hands, afraid it isn’t real, for fear it will disappear or he’ll be exposed and vulnerable for trying.

Dean feels the tension returning to Sam’s body, the slight retraction from his touch, a trembling along his limbs and he freezes over him. _Is this too much, too soon? Is Sammy changing his mind? Did he have any right to even try? Is he rationalizing his actions on the assumption they both want this? Was it wrong?_

“Sam?....Sammy? U ok?” he asks, voice hoarse but gentle.

Sam nods tightly and croaks. “Yeah, ‘m fine!” But he won’t open his eyes, afraid Dean will see the fear there.

But Dean doesn’t need to see his brother’s eyes to read his mood. Their years of close proximity in every imaginable situation have honed his senses so finely, that a peripheral glance at Sam tells him more about his state of mind than any ten-minute speech. He can feel the anxiety radiating out off Sam as clearly as he can feel his own rising. He sees the tightening around Sam’s eyes and mouth, notices his short, shallow breaths and the shaking in his hands. And there is no doubt. _Sam is scared!_

“Sam, it’s ok.” Dean says in a low and what he hopes reassuring tone. “We don’t have to do this, man….if you don’t want to.”

Sam’s beautiful hazel eyes fly open and as they bore into Dean’s finding amazed that they are mostly a warm brown with specs of blue in this light. He can also plainly see the panicked and almost pleading expression in them that sends another stab of doubt into his gut. 

“No, I….I don’t want to stop!” the younger man blurts in a rough whisper and struggles for the right words.

 _‘Oh, good, at least I’m not being cock blocked when I’m just getting started.’_ Dean lets out a sharp breath he wasn’t aware that he was holding until Sam’s words hit him.

“Then what? You don’t like what I’m doing?” Dean’s face is so openly curious and questioning without any judgment or apprehension that Sam gathers courage from that and tries to explain what’s going through his mind.

“I…like…I mean, it’s awesome…I just…we….” He stops frustrated at his own inability to express what it is that bugs him.

Dean simply looks down at him patiently and waits for Sam to organize his thoughts. _This has to be mutual, or it won’t ever work. He wouldn’t push anything on Sam that he wasn’t ready to give or give up. No way!_

Sam takes a deep, steadying breath and tries again. “What you are doing feels amazing and ….different. I am just….it’s so intense, it’s a little surprising, ya know? I guess, I wasn’t expecting this to be….so…. much? It….like…freaks me out a little,” Sam swallows hard and searches Dean’s face for any negative reaction, but all he finds is support and a knowing small smile.

“It’s kinda…yeah…I get that, Sam,” he suddenly grins at him crookedly, “I mean, I didn’t exactly expect this to be…like…so _fucking hot_ either. Considering we’re not gay and all.”

Sam lets out a huff of laughter at Dean’s sideways admission that he is enjoying this, too.

“But, dude, now that it is… _hot_ , I mean…” Dean continues with a mischievous smirk, “can we, maybe, shut up and just enjoy it?” he leans down closer and kisses Sam, just a soft meeting of lips, the slightest bit of tongue sliding along the seam. “I mean,” Dean murmurs against Sam’s mouth, sending a vibration along his sensitive skin and goose bumps down his neck, “I haven’t even got to the good parts yet. Got big plans, ya know?”

“Hhhmmm“, Sam tries to protest, when the older Winchester seals his lips once more over his and then pushes at Dean’s shoulders to get his attention. “Wait, Dean!” he keeps a hold on his brother’s shoulders to still his movements.

“Please, Dean”, his eyes are so intent that Dean relents and sits back on his haunches.

“What?”

“There’s one thing more I need you to know, before we…before this….whatever happens.”

Dean’s heart thumps painfully and his stomach contracts in sudden apprehension that this may be the bad news, he’d seen waiting in the wings all morning. _The other shoe is about to drop. Sam’s not staying. He’s leaving me._

“What?” he asks again in a flat voice while his brain is going a hundred miles a minutes straight to hell.

Sam’s cheeks and neck flush bright red and he ducks his head as he whispers. “I slept with Lisa.”

The sentence doesn’t register in Dean’s brain for a moment as it still sorts through all the worst possible scenarios.

“Dean, did you hear me?” Sam hedges and pokes Dean lightly in the shoulder.

_Ooooh, fuck, this is not good. Dean only turns this still and quiet when he is SERIOUSLY pissed._

“Huh?” Dean huffs as his eyes focus on Sam slowly.

“I am sorry, but we grew pretty close over the past weeks and we were so damn lonely all the time and…and…stressed, I guess….and it just kinda happened. I mean we agreed, it wasn’t either one pushing the other, ya know. She told me that it has nothing to do with you…she wants you…wants it to work with you….it was just, we were just…JESUS, I’m so sorry, Dean!” Saying it all out loud makes it sound so much less logical and ok than he had believed or made himself believe it to be. _What the Fuck had they been thinking? How in the world had he thought Dean would be ok with that…? But then, Dean was here, now, wasn’t he? Making out with HIM_.

Sam thought his brain would melt from the overload of conflicting emotions and confusion any second now _– this…ALL this…was insane._

“You sly dog!” The quiet but clearly amused voice of his brother drifts up to him.

This time Sam is the one not comprehending the other’s words at first, but as they slowly filter in, he looks up at Dean from below his lashes, head still ducked down. “What?”

Dean starts laughing then, a free, open belly laugh – a sound so rare to Sam, that it completely startles him. His head comes up and he stares wide eyed at his brother.

“I have to give you props, little brother!” he wheezes , “Never thought the day would come that you’d be grown up enough to steal my girl!”

 _It all made sense now. The weird vibe between Sam and Lisa, the familiarity, the closeness, their connection. Sam’s worry. All of it. And it was OK._ A warm certainty floods Dean at these thoughts.

“And you find this _funny?”_ Sam is still torn between horror at himself and a soaring joy that Dean hasn’t jumped up and clocked him yet.

Dean lets out another bout of laughter. “I think it’s hilarious! Don’t get me wrong, I’ll make you pay for that…in some way…should kick your ass, really…but honestly….I get it!” he sobers slightly and rubs his hand over his face to wipe away the moisture in his eyes. “Really, Sammy, it’s ok! 

Sam just stares at him, chewing at the inside of his cheek.

“Lisa is one of the _best_ people I know,” Dean continues, in a warm and more serious tone, “She is kind, patient, brave, so strong and fucking HOT. I totally fell for her and we didn’t even spend _that_ much time with each other. You guys were cooped up together for several weeks every day, taking care of _me,_ not sure if I’d make it….back. So how can I be mad, if you kinda…helped each other?”

Dean can tell that Sam doesn’t believe him, that he thinks Dean puts on a brave front for his benefit.

“Listen, Sammy, I _mean_ it! I don’t blame you…or her…for anything, ok? I have no right to her. She is her own, free woman, making her own decisions. And if you care for each other…..I….I’m really ok with that. Whatever happens later.”

Sam’s face is both so scared and so hopeful at the same time that Dean’s heart gives a painful twinge. He leans down, slides one hand into his brother’s shaggy hair and catches Sam’s mouth in a soft, tender kiss, just a warm and gentle pressure on his lips.

Sam’s insides unclench at that and he feels like an iron band is released from his lungs as he takes a deep breath and clears his throat hard.

"So, we’re good?” he mumbles against Dean’s mouth.

“We’re good, Sammy,” he can feel Dean smile against his lips.

“And before we….go…I don’t know… _too_ far?! This… _us_ …is this really what you want? Still? Are you _sure_?”

Sam feels his heart race in his chest like it wants to run away from the answer so it can’t be smashed by disappointment, if Dean comes to his senses now. But he _has_ to know, make sure they _both_ want this, rule out the last possibility that _he_ is pushing Dean into something, he’ll regret right after. If this has to end, then it has to be _now._ If Dean makes Lisa his sole choice then it needs to happen _now._ Because Sam is absolutely certain at that moment that if they let his happen, it’ll be IT for him. There is no going back.

Dean pulls back and looks down at Sam’s sweet, familiar, but currently anguished face and he turns completely serious and sincere, all humor gone. He takes a moment to gather the right words, needing to make sure he is removing all doubt from Sam’s mind. Because there is no going back for him anymore. As strange and seemingly wrong as this is….it is the right thing for _them_. The _only_ right thing. He wants Sam in his life, wants more from Sam than ever before in his life, can’t imagine going back to status quo from…before. He wants Lisa to be part of his life, too, but she will have to make her own decision, her own choice and it has nothing to do with what is happening right here between Sam and him.

Dean is unexpectedly calm and rock-solidly sure that he can make Sam see that, understand that it’s ok. That this may be beyond explaining, but it’s a perfect fit.

“Sam, listen to me very carefully, ok? Because I only want to say this _once_ and not have this discussion every time. _I’ve never been so fucking sure about anything in my life._ I am not rushing into this half-cocked. I don’t know why or why now, but I want this and it feels right.” Dean studies Sam’s face for a moment, sees his expression change slowly from dread and uncertainty to wide eyed wonder and joy and he can feel a lump rise from his chest into his throat at the realization that Sam had wanted to hear exactly this from him, that it would be ok. His voice wavers a little as he continues. “You and me, we belong together….always have…always will. Nothing can change that, ok? So, if you are in it _with_ me…we can….”

Dean is cut off mid-sentence when Sam takes his face firmly in between his hands and pulls him down to kiss him with such fire and passion that Dean’s head starts swimming after a few seconds.

There are no further words necessary. They agree. They want this. And although they don’t know where this will lead and they have no clear picture on this will fit in with the rest of their lives or how the other people in their lives will fit in with this, they are certain that they don’t want to be without it.

_‘The rest will work itself out….we’ll figure it out…like we always do…’_

Dean breaks the kiss, breathing hard and fast, and takes hold of Sam’s hands, intertwining their fingers and stretching Sam’s arms once more over his head to the headboard, where he closes them to hold onto the slats. He trails his fingertips feather-light back down this soft inside of Sam’s arms, tracing the veins there and continues down his sides.

“’Nough talking”, he rasps and nips at Sam’s lower lip sharply and then tongues just under the edge of it, drawing a loud gasp from Sam.

Dean’s calloused hands roam over his brother’s torso once more, nails scraping bluntly over his ribs and chest as he kisses him demanding and deep, reigniting the fire in Sam’s veins and groin in a matter of moments and dousing his doubts and worries like a deluge on a small camp fire.

Dean’s breathe glides hot and heavy along Sam’s jaw, biting gently here and there along the way up to his ear. “No more excuses, Sammy,” he growls, before sealing his lips over the pulse at his neck and sucking hard at it.

Sam hisses at the immediate pain, but the sensation of his brother’s lips and teeth and tongue on the sensitive flesh there sends another rush of blood into his already-aching dick and his hips buck off the mattress involuntarily.

Dean grins against Sam’s skin, lapping at the mark he just made and he rolls his hips down into Sam’s, hard drag of cock against cock through the denim. The younger Winchester groans at the contact and pushes hard against it, seeking more friction, but Dean backs off almost immediately, leaving him straining at empty air.

“Patience, man,” he chides with a deep chuckle and sets his teeth on Sam’s collar bone, carefully pulling at the skin there before kissing along it and letting his tongue dip into the hollow between the bones.

Sam feels like his skin is on fire everywhere, licking and dancing flames, bright and consuming, and only Dean’s touch and lips and teeth and tongue are able to soothe the inferno for a moment, give him a measure of relief. This is so different from anything he has ever experienced. Dean’s slightly rough hands, the stubble on his cheeks and jaw, even the generous use of his teeth, add such delicious layer of sensation to each contact that Sam’s skin seems alive under the stimulation. And his brother knows exactly where his most sensitive spots are, going for them mercilessly and winding Sam ever tighter with need and want.

Sam’s head falls back onto the pillow and his eyes flutter shut with a deep sigh as he finally lets himself relax completely into whatever Dean has planned.

His brother takes full advantage of the apparent surrender. He marvels at the texture of Sam’s tanned, soft skin on his tongue as he lets it dance over his broad chest and flick over a hard nipple; loves the flex and give of each muscle between his teeth as he teases his flanks; enjoys the tickle of fine hairs on his lips as he kisses a hot line from Sam’s belly button to the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

Sam squirms and twitches under Dean’s attention, heat coursing down his limbs and collecting low in his belly in intense waves.

“Dean, please!” he pleads more than a little desperately as Dean noses along the long hard line of his cock straining out of the fly of his jeans. Sam groans and bucks again, but Dean grabs his hips and slams him back to the mattress.

“Please, what?” he growls and looks up Sam’s body to his face.

Dean’s eyes glint like shards of green sea glass lit by the sun under his long lashes and Sam sucks in a sharp breath at the gorgeous sight of his kiss swollen lips mouthing along his shaft through his pants.  

“Fuck, Dean, I wanna feel you…on me!” he pants and hard shudder runs through him in anticipation.

Dean smirks and sets his teeth gently around the outline of the head of Sam’s cock through the fabric, applying just the tiniest bit of pressure and loving the way the younger man’s body jerks fiercely at that.

“’M _on_ you already.” he intones, which sends a humming vibration straight down Sam’s length, teasing a desperate gurgle from the back of his throat.

Dean suddenly feels a hot, wet spot form under his lips where a surge of pre-come stains Sam’s pants and he suckles at it gently, wrenching a loud almost obscene moan from Sam that tightens Dean’s balls in response.

 _Holy Fucking Christ, the jerk is killing me here._ Sam is about to rip his own pants off to finally get Dean’s mouth on him, but he restrains himself with great effort, hanging on to the headboard for dear life.

“Stop fucking around, Dean…please…need you!” Sam whines and tries to lift his hips again, to get closer to Dean’s mouth.

The thin pleading, needy tone of Sam’s voice sends Dean’s dick jumping and he groans at the sensation of it and rocks against Sam’s thigh to relieve some of the almost painful pressure building there.

He peels off Sam’s jeans and underwear all the way down his legs, letting his blunt nails trail over his flushed skin along the way, before tossing them to the side. Dean practically scrambles out of his own pants with lightning speed and rips his shirt over his head, frantic to get his hands and mouth back on his brother.

 _Jesus, Sam was fucking hot, laid out like this._ Long muscular arms are stretched out over his head, causing his shoulders and chest muscles to strain slightly. Sam’s concave belly is rising and falling with his rapid breathes, and his hips are straining upwards again, letting his strong leg muscles stand out starkly. And his cock, Dean licks his lips slowly, unconsciously, his cock is full and diamond hard and dark red flushed with blood, all the veins raised in sharp contrast.

 _‘God, I can’t believe we are doing this.’_ Dean muses and looks his fill of his brother’s body. ‘ _Can’t believe, he’ll **let** me do this for him.’_

Dean kneels back on the bed and runs his hands up in sensitive inside of Sam’s long legs, along the crease of his groin and to his hip, where he slots his palms over sharply protruding bones and lets his thumbs run across the sensitive skin of the younger man’s lower abdomen just above the dark curls, enjoying the shivers and tremors under the thin skin.

Sam’s eyes are huge, pupils blown with lust, as he looks down at Dean crouched between his spread legs with a hungry expression.

Dean finally leans down, looking into Sam’s face all the while, and slowly licks a hot, wet stripe up his entire hard length from base to tip.

The sight and sensation of Dean’s mouth on him sends such a jolt of pure pleasure through Sam that the headboard creaks dangerously under his iron grip and he lets out a long drawn moan. 

“Fuuuck, Dean, yeah!”

Dean licks up Sam’s length once more following the thick, pulsing vein there, before closing his lips over the soft head and letting his tongue swirl around it.

Sam feels himself practically lift of the bed with supernatural force as Dean’s mouth envelopes him; so incredibly hot and wet that he thinks he’ll fly apart at the feeling any second now.

Dean hums around him at his enthusiasm, which sends another shock straight to Sam’s core and rips another sound of pure bliss from deep in his chest.

_This is just too much. So much more than he ever expected. He’s had blowjobs before, of course, from both chicks and guys, in fact, but something about it being Dean made it about 1000 times more incredible. Dean who always took care of him, Dean who taught him so much, Dean who never hesitated doing anything for him – was now giving him such unbelievable pleasure that it was almost incomprehensible and it rockets him to a mindboggling high._

Dean flattens out his tongue and runs it flush to Sam’s underside as he takes him down as deep as he can without gagging and then sucks in his cheeks hard on the way up. He repeats this motion over and over in a steady rhythm and loves the way Sam tries to move with him, into him, the way he squirms and writhes under the strong hold on his hips.

A white-hot thrill races down Dean’s spine and collects deep in his gut at the multitude of sensations of Sam’s cock in his mouth; steel core sheathed in velvety skin; twitching flesh and the enticing taste of tangy-sweet saltiness leaking steadily from the tip.

He pauses for a moment, Sam’s cock buried in his mouth as deep as it will go and he flexes his lips and tongue around him, applying more pressure. 

 _Fuck, little brother…when did you get so big on me!?_ Dean thinks a little desperately, admitting to himself that Sam’s size is a little intimidating and definitely too much for him to take down all the way.

_He doesn’t really know what he is doing here, flying a little by the seat of his non-existent pants. He hasn’t given head since the couple of times in high-school, when curiosity drove him to try it on that sweet kid from his history class. Nothing memorable, but – hey. A check off his bucket list, he presumed. But then he received plenty of blowjobs over the years, (Lisa sticking out sharply as the clear winner in his mind for a moment), knows what feels good to him and watched about a lifetime’s worth of porn…he could figure out, how to make this good for Sammy! He was sure of it._

Dean realizes with sudden delight that Sam’s rabbit fast pulse transmits through his cock. 

 _Holy Shit, I can feel Sam’s heartbeat in my mouth!_  

Fascinated by this discovery, he startles slightly when Sam’s hand is suddenly at the back of his head, threading his fingers through Dean’s hair and then flexing there almost spasmodically. He isn’t forcing any motion, just looking for more contact with his brother’s body. Dean’s eyes fly open and he stares up at the younger man’s face in question and pulling off him slowly.

“Sorry”, Sam pants and starts to withdraw his hand, but Dean catches it, before he can and places it back on his head.

“S’ ok, Sammy, just try not to choke me, ‘k?” Dean rasps.

“Just…just feels so fucking incredible!” Sam groans as Dean closes his lips around is tip once more and lets his tongue massage the small bundle of nerves right under the head. “Uuuhng, yeah…Christ! Dean!” Sam is babbling and Dean can hear the headboard squeak again in protest at his brother’s clenching hand.

Dean can’t help but grin at the way Sam seems to love to talk….even during this! _So Sam…._

He gets back to it with new gusto, lapping at Sam’s slit and catching pearls of salty liquid on his tongue before spreading it up and down Sam’s length.

Sam is watching him with rapt attention, biting hard into his lower lip and breathing rapidly through his nose. Small whimpers break free from his throat every once in a while, but he’s too far gone to feel embarrassed about it.

 _God, how does Dean know exactly what he needs? FUCK, he looks so fucking hot doing it, too!_ Sam feels like his brain is going in and out of focus, sharp almost painful arousal morphing into warm waves of gentle bliss and back.

The older Winchester suddenly pulls off with a pop and closes his hand around Sam instead, stroking him with firm, sure movements.

Sam’s brain short circuits at the abrupt change of sensation as Dean’s calloused palm and fingers tease and agitate his erection even further.

It’s winding him ever higher and he can feel an intense tingle race up his legs and collect in his groin. He moans low and long and bucks hard into Dean’s hand seeking more friction now that he has less restraint on his hips.

“God, yes….need….Dean….more….please.” Sam grits out between clenched teeth as his fingers sink deep into Dean’s shoulder muscle.

Dean chuckles and gently takes one of Sam’s balls into his mouth, lapping at it and rolling it over his tongue, while his brother throws his head back onto the pillow with a shout and arches off the bed.

 _Holy Shit, so eager for it, aren’t you, Sammy?_ Dean relishes the way he can get Sam to lose his shit like this.

Sam’s reaction and the new soft, smooth texture and faintly musty taste sends lightning shooting all through Dean’s body and he ruts hard at the mattress a couple of times, grunting with the movement.

“Jesus, FUCK, Dean!” Sam’s hand clenches at the back of Dean’s head again and tugs hard at his hair as the vibration of the groan fizzes through him. “I can’t…oooh, not…gonna last.”  

Dean increases the speed of his strokes adding a soft swipe of his thumb over his slit every once in a while as Sam grows ever more frantic under his touch and his mouth.

Sam doesn’t want it to end and is desperate for release at the same time, but most of all he needs to get his hands on his brother _right the Fuck NOW!_

He can feel himself getting dangerously close to the edge and refuses to leave Dean behind.

With a sudden motion he lets go of the headboard and Dean’s head at the same time and sits up. Dean looks up in surprise and a chill slides down his spine at the wild hunger he sees blazing at him from Sam’s lust-darkened eyes. He carefully releases Sam’s balls with a last soft kiss just as Sam reaches down, grabs Dean under the armpits and hauls him up bodily until their chests are pressed together and Sam falls back onto the pillows, pulling Dean against him.

 _‘Christ, the kid has strength…’._ Dean marvels but would rather be caught dead than say it out loud.

The onslaught of Sam’s body conveniently disengages his brain for a while. There is nothing but Sam’s mouth on his; tongues tangling fiercely, licking deeply, teeth and lips smashing; Sam’s hands on his neck and back and sides and ass; stroking, digging in, scraping; and Sam’s hot, hard length slotted next to his; rutting and sliding and pushing ferociously against each other.

 _This is fucking incredible._ Sam’s huge hands all over his flushed, slick body; the way his muscles ripple and tremble against him; the almost desperate need to be plastered together as close as possible; has Dean’s skin break out in gooseflesh and breath come in shallow gasps, while he can feel his dick leaking steadily between their bellies.

Sam takes control now and Dean doesn't fight him for it. The younger man rolls them both over until he straddles Dean’s hips and looks down at him, raking his long hair from this forehand with one hand and splaying his other wide over Dean’s heart.

He can feel it hammering under his palm and relishes the look on Dean’s face as he pants up at him with kiss-slicked parted lips and eyes so dark with desire that only the slightest bright green rim remains.

He bends down close to Dean’s ear and runs his hot tongue all around its shell then he murmurs.

“Lemme finish it for _both_ of us, ‘k?” he sucks Dean’s earlobe into his mouth and bites down on it not too gently.

Dean lets out a guttural groan and slides his hands down Sam’s spine to his ass where he grabs on tight. “Whatever, dude, just hurry the fuck up…!” He grinds his hips upwards in a hard thrust and Sam moans into his shoulder. Then he slides his hand in between them and closes one huge paw almost all the way around both of their rock hard cocks.

“Fuck! Yeah!” Dean pushes out between clenched teeth.

Sam sets an almost punishing tempo, aided by the generous amount of their combined slickness easing the way, stroking and tugging hard while he holds himself up over Dean with one arm.

One of Dean’s hands is still on Sam’s ass, nails digging in deep and supporting his brother’s rhythm as best he can. He puts the other behind Sam’s neck and presses their foreheads together, looking down between them at the amazing sight of Sam stripping their angrily flushed, leaking dicks with a firm grip.

“Come on, Sam!” Dean grinds out. “God…uh…so fucking hot! Yeah, that’s it!”

He can feel Sam quiver and tremble above him with effort like a bow string about to snap and his breaths coming in hard, quick pants against Dean’s lips.

“Dean….mmmm….gonna….I’m….shiiiit!” Sam’s muscles seize up tight and his brain feels like its exploding together with his heart and then he comes so hard that the hot, white ribbons hit Dean’s chin. “Jesus, fuuuck!”

Dean quickly adds his hand to Sam’s and takes over the rhythm milking Sam through his orgasm until he feels his own balls draw up tight a few moments later and all his senses are heightening almost painfully- vision suddenly sharp, tastes and sounds and smells vibrant and all engulfed by Sam - and then he detonates with his own climax. His head collides with the headboard as it falls back, his eyes tightly clenched shut and his mouth open on a silent shout. He is completely quiet, twitching and convulsing under Sam as wave after wave of sensations crash over him and he’s shooting, hard, all over his own belly and chest.

Sam collapses on Dean’s side and his hand rests on his brother’s chest, stroking absentmindedly, as he tries to come back to himself. His whole frame is shaking and his body feels numb and slack against Dean’s. The older Winchester’s belly and chest are heaving with deep ragged breathes and his dick is still twitching and stirring feebly as it slowly softens in his hand.

Neither one can remember ever coming so hard in their lives and they have no clue how to put that into words that don’t sound completely cheesy or inappropriate.

So they simply lie there, in complete silence and let their bodies slowly come down from the crazy high they’d been riding.

“Dude!!!” Dean finally grinds out.

“Yeah. right?!” Sam answers.

“I guess, we’ll need another shower now.” Dean quips, still breathless.

“Uhu, probably.” Sam mumbles. “Can’t move, though!”

“Yeah, me neither.” Dean agrees.

They fall quiet again and simply enjoy each other’s company.

Sam’s hand is still painting little patterns over Dean’s heart.

“Or, we could….maybe!?” Sam hedges a few minutes later.

“Stay in bed?” Dean suggests.

“Well, since neither of us can walk at the moment….” Sam sets his chin on Dean’s chest and grins at him, hazel eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You're the smart one, Sammy…brilliant idea. C’mere.”

And Dean pulls Sam up towards him and seals their lips together with the promise of a new kind of hunt, an endless number of unexplored roads, interesting challenges to discover and face and overcome….together.

 

 **To Be Continued….** soon...


End file.
